Bre Writes Books

This is an except from a 2011 journal I kept where I wrote each entry as poetry. 

No one knows how he became a captain.

He certainly didn’t go through the ranks,

Or start out at the bottom,

That was for sure and for certain. 

He just was a captain,

Strong and true.

A real presence

And definitely used to the loneliness of the sea.

Waiting for a port,

Any port,

To allow him access,

To all of the jewels it could, 

Or could not contain. 

He was a captain,

Of both the seven seas, 

And of the flesh.