by Franci Welcker

I remember my sisters,
Each one deciding to be cradled by the waves,
Each one deciding to be forever docked,
Forever safe.

I remember their polished brass,
Their fresh paint,
Their gleaming varnish,
And their flawless structure.

But no amount of cover-up,
Could ever disguise,
Who they really were inside.

Their scornful boasts,
Their empty care,
Their pretentious ways,
Their paranoidal quirks,
And their annoying way of always being right.

What they thought of the world,
What they thought of the universe,
What they thought of me.

Each worry of theirs,
I'd scoff at,
Each thought of theirs,
I'd disagree,
Each idea of theirs,
I'd defy.

There words echoing in my mind,
Their scolds,
Their warnings,
How they knew I would slip up one day.

Dare devil,
The first words that came to their minds,
When I was mentioned.

With only the warm sunsets,
The pastel sky,
And the glittery water,
To be with me.

Calling me,
Coaxing me...

Then suddenly,
It blurs.
The track skips,
The runner stumbles,
The paint begins to drip off the picture,
Splattering on the ground.
My memory struggles,
Straining against what I don't know,
What I should know.

And then,
He appears,
I remember him,
The devil,
He kept dealing me the cards,
I kept playing the game,
I kept gambling,
My life,
My knowledge,
My heart.
Why did I think I'd win?

The screaming was next,
So many types,
Different equations,
All adding up to give you the same answer.
He knew them all by heart.

I lay a card down,
Why am I smirking?
They're dying out there,
Yet I stay and play the game.
He puts his card's down,
Just as widely.

The water begins seeping in,
Spilling over my sides,
My mind begins to fizzle and crack,
My load is beginning to lighten,
Yet I'm being pulled,
Being dragged down into the murky water.

I can't see anything,
I can't feel anything,
My hold is empty,
My starboard side begins to dip and lean,
Filling me with water.
Water weighs me down,
My wooden sides groaning in protest,
But I don't struggle.

An excruciating pain erupts on my stomach,
A rock splinters through,
A fatal stab.

There were fish,
Colors of the rainbow,
Sizes various,
Reefs and coral reach for me,
Their arms stretched to me,
The seaweed clinging to me,
How welcoming they are.

I land,
My belly wedged deep in the ocean's sandy bottom,
My vison blurs,
I feel my cargo float swiftly to my side.

At the bottom of the sea,
Once in the heart of a sailor,
I rest forgotten,

Franci Welcker's picture

Hi, my name is Franci, I am 13 years old, and enjoy writing stories and poems. I want to become professional someday, but first I need feedback about the stuff I've got now, and if what I call "talent" is real, or just my imagination. Thank-you.

Last updated January 15, 2017