The great white boat at the end of the harbour,
the boat which like a second and lesser sun
reflects the first light of day every morning,
the boat I have dreamt will one day take me away,
I now see is firmly tied to shore with hefty chains.
It is not now, nor any time soon, sailing anywhere.
It has long returned from what was its final journey,
forever to sit here, to entertain children and tourists.
I walked to it this morning for a closer look.
Thought I saw it tugging at its thick ropes,
Thought I heard a groan from its propellers.
I looked. Listened.
I was wrong.
It was me.