In the silence of early morning,

The dawn makes her gentle presence know.

Soft light spills across the water,

In the quiet, we slip our mooring lines,

No fanfare, no farewell songs-

Just the whisper of the ocean’s breath

As we glide where we belong.

Then the wind, like a whispered command,

Fills our sails with sudden grace.

Our boat responds, eager and alive,

To chase the open space.

The calm wraps round like memory,

A lullaby of wind and tide.

Each ripple holds a promise,

Each wave a truth we ride.

No map, no need for compass-

Our hearts the only guide.

Destination: the far horizon,

Where hope and wonder coincide.

But take heed-she is no gentle muse

When fear and mayhem rise.

She turns calm seas to tempests,

And clouds the clearest skies.

Books By Peter LLC.
All rights and copyright @ Peter A. Moscovita
Date: September 15th .2025