(This is the poem)
My Two young sons
move with assurance
through the maze
of ropes and sails,
steer out of turbulence
to calmer seas,
drop anchor .
They climb the mast;
my body tanses
with past apprehension.
Suddenly one dives ,
I plummet with him ,
breathe again
when he emerges
The small boat pitches
as he hoists aboard.
I glance up swiftly
to the swaying crossbeam
where his brother
perched, confident .
As heavy mist rolls in
they guide the light craft
back to the harbour , and like my hands
old maps lie folded on my lap .
Reaching the laddered dock
they stretch strong arms
to steady me. When did
this turnabout occur?
I have become a passenger
on their journey .
What does it mean?
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