Little Wooden Boat

Stormy skies surrounded the seething sea as it rushed around us,
waspish waves that grow tall and then crash as the wind whistles and nature bristles with indignation.
The boat is a beautiful one,
blood red paint against the children of the trees in the forest where we had our first kiss. We bore this vessel,
and then we sent her into the incensed ocean,
just to see if she’d survive,
and though the water is rough,
and the wind is wrathful,
she still smiles and sways to and fro,
as if she doesn’t have a care in the world.