Upon the wind he was born, one who lost his way.
For he was far from the shore, a chill was in the air.
To my home he did flee, and for a time would stay.
His little wings wasted hung, in his eyes an empty stare.
As evening crept across the waves, then darkness on the deep.
We sat as two who knew no home, vagabonds were we.
The sound of water parting ways, and then a little peep.
He made his way beneath my coat, to hide beneath my lee.
The moon appear above the clouds, chasing the other light.
I sat in silence beneath the sheet, the bird did softly sleep.
What made him trust, when all his wild called him to flight,
It was his life that made him thus, his life so frail and meek.
The hours passed more slowly than the water below my keel.
I wondered if he was missed, if any noticed he was gone.
Or like me was he alone, with not a soul to call a friend.
Pondering I was upon these thoughts, the rigging sang it's song.
First was gray, a long thin line, and then more fire came.
As day was pushing out the night, from my thoughts I woke.
The bird who join me hours ago and had my friend became,
Was transformed in the night and now with joy he spoke.
We shared a night as kindred souls voyaging on till the dawn,
No time had I to share with him these deep and wistful thoughts.
For now renewed with sleep and warmth, quickly he flitted on.
Where he ended I do not know, I pray for the land he fought.
My journey was not about a place but in the adventure sought.
His journey was for his life, and as such, a lesson I was taught.