|The Compass Rose
||[Jan. 18th, 2003|04:56 pm]
Whichever way the Trade Wind blows|
Four quarters of the compass rose
I pack my life up small and go
My future course I do not know.
The golden shores of childhood dreams
Lie broken off the starboard beam
But time and tide will never wait
And I am master of my fate.
My choices made, my sails are full
The tide moves underneath my hull
My youth receding in the past
The ocean spreads before me, vast.
Though lonely is the road I take
The known world far behind my wake
The ship is mine to steer at last
And hope burns bright above my mast.