He gets up
Not feeling very well,
83 years old
And believing his life
Will go on forever,

A tiny boat
Who's always stayed 
Close to the dock,
 
Familiar 
Things in view,
Feeling safe.

The last thing he's ever wanted
Is his boat being blown
Out to sea
And there to be forced
From the boat,

And so he continues to try 
To cling to familiar sights.

But a current
Is swirling now, and
In spite of his fear,
It's pulling him away

From the sights
That defined, 
Anchored him,

Out to the open sea
He's spent his life 
Trying to avoid.

It feels sad,
A frail person
In a tiny bodyboat

Sailing in a world
Carefully downsized
So as not to face the ocean,

Not to drown
In anything 
That looks
So deep and lonely.

He doesn't want to leave
His carefully 
Constructed craft,

But fate,
A current with a will
Beyond his own,

Keeps pushing him
Pushing him,
Out to sea.