By Bob Gaut


I've crossed three oceans
on mighty ships.
I've seen green seas
with foamy lips.

I've stood at the bow
with wind in my face.
Yet I choose the stern
as a favorite place.

From my spot aft
I'd look at our wake
Hear a rumbling sound
huge screws make.

Our path on the sea
is a boiling trail.
This sight I'd  enjoy
from a spot on the rail.

When crossing oceans
I smile and I grin.
I find a spot at the stern
to see where I've been.

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