Bring on the Pilot, cast off the lines,
wait for the flooding tide.
Haul up the anchor, lay off the shore,
open the topsails wide.
...
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The melody flows with a swell surging tide and salts crusted lips, as a lone gull decries, and each is a sailor and the sea is wide, your verse provides succour where each may abide. Thank you for this fine poem.
With great visual details and such a beautiful prayer with lovely flow and rhythm, I loved this superb write! !
When was this first published?