Jack

Jack, oh Jack, you know you’re the apple of my eye –

but really, you’d be better off learning to fly.

It’s unfortunate for you that there’s not a boat,

so I suppose it’s lucky that men can float.

Don’t you worry, oh lover of mine,

if hypothermia gets you before the coastline

I’ll keep the drawing safe,

treasure it with the necklace –

could move over…

but you know I’m not that reckless.

It’s not very romantic. I know, I agree.

It’s simply all I can muster when floating on debris.

I hope it comforts you,

that I do wish that there were space

but, I’m afraid, it’s hardly my place

to offer you even a corner of this door

but you know,

I always knew you’d make a wonderful oar.

.

.

.

For those that are on sinking ships

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