All Hands on Deck
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The ship sat on the edge of the mahogany table. The striped sails blew in the imaginative wind.
It was the last ship I had, for all the others had sailed away.
I used to make them, with shaking hands and painted fingertips. The time would pass as each board on the deck was delicately placed. My father had showed me how, but he has sailed away.
This was the last ship I had.
It’s pride that used to swell the sails now is deflated by years of dust. My hand met the glass and it fell to the floor.
It was the last ship I had, for all the others had sailed away.
I used to make them, with shaking hands and painted fingertips. The time would pass as each board on the deck was delicately placed. My father had showed me how, but he has sailed away.
This was the last ship I had.
It’s pride that used to swell the sails now is deflated by years of dust. My hand met the glass and it fell to the floor.
♠ ♠ ♠
My first drabble.Feed back is appreciated.