My Poetry. The Lifeboat.

The waves dashed fiercely,
Bodies tossed side by side;
All alone, a vessel
Struggling to glide.

Thirteen souls afloat
In a wooden sanctuary,
Not knowing where it was going,
If it was night or day.

No food or supplies had been saved,
Just people in a trance,
From the old to the young,
Thrown together by circumstance.

The ship had sunk days ago,
The lifeboats went down bar one;
Only this vessel remained intact,
Floating in the blazing sun.

One man had taken charge,
As panic dulled common sense;
The female passengers crying,
No one coming to their defense.

He tried to gather order,
As screams of terror flew;
This was in desperation,
From a terrified motley crew.

Injured people holding wounds,
Crying out with pain;
Others tried to comfort them,
Battered by the rain.

For many days they traveled,
Praying they would sight land;
Patience and good fortune
Were slipping out of hand.

Out of all the ship's passengers,
Only thirteen would survive;
Starving and half-dead,
Lucky to be alive.

Eventually, land had been sighted—
For some, they would never forget,
Never taking anything for granted,
No sadness or regret.

The lifeboat now stood lonely,
It had saved so many lives:
Fathers, sons, and daughters,
Husbands, sisters, and wives.

The moral of this story
Is work hard as a team;
Survival is for the fittest—
It isn't just a dream.

Be careful in the Harsh waters.