I look at her...

each time I pass by and wonder what her story is. In another time of my life, my world revolved around old wooden boats and to see one laying abandoned year after year, cracking slowly more apart makes me sad.


Requiem
Robert Louis Stevenson (from Underwoods, 1887)

Under the wide and starry sky,
Dig the grave and let me lie.
Glad did I live and gladly die,
And I laid me down with a will.

This be the verse you grave for me:
Here he lies where he longed to be;
Home is the sailor, home from sea,
And the hunter home from the hill.