Meeting you was
Like a bird's wings beating,
As it took flight,
Seeing you smile was a true delight,
And my notebook was all I had with me,
Torn pages that fluttered in the wind,
Blame it on the bad binding,
All but the last page,
Covered in doodles
Which had your number written on it,
That page too will flutter away one day,
Just as hatchlings leave their nest,
The winds will carry it far away,
Or perhaps the sea will try to make the lettering fade,
But, I believe one day,
I'll find a scrap of that page,
That has your number on it,
Because I wrote it
Using waterproof ink
The Bilge Master
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