A letter to someone

To someone,

I'm not sure who you are while you might be wondering who wrote this. Bear with me, as you read through the scripture written by someone of no importance.

I have left your port. A port where I have been anchoring my ship for a long time. Since as long as the kids down the street can remember. Since as long as I found this wonderful port. I set sailed once in awhile though not into a far distance. I return to the port that for me, seemed so much like a comfort nest. You fixed every board that was loosen. You gathered that many children around to listen to my grunts while weeping to my groans. There were times where the sea seemed so harsh to my ship and tore away my sail but coming back to your port makes it all fine again. The white sail changes color every time my ship anchors in as you would bring along your colored clothes to replace it. Times were such that my ship howls on the impossibility of sailing with these clothes but you changed them anyhow and the ship sails just fine.

Many waves have splashed the bay, we do not know how many. It was time for my ship and I to move on across the vast blue wonder. I'm a voyager not a stow-ager. Under the clear conscious of a brightly lit night, I set my white sail and started my long journey once again. Leaving your port that was once a home to me. For my ship, for myself. A place of solace.

Now, in the midst of a starry night, I once again hope that my battered ship is to be mend again by your port. How battered and worn out has it been since my ship sailed. The sea which has never cease to be harsh on my ship has tumbled it upside down and downward up. It is time for my ship to find a port once again. To rest, to be mend, and to be merry. Though I have lost my way to go back to your port.

From,
The writer