4/6/2017
The tepid rapids
which were quite vapid
left me stranded
but not abandoned.
While tame they be,
I failed to see
the looming rocks
under me.
Now my hull has a hole
and things look quite droll.
I guess my callow
has left me sallow
with no rescue in sight
I choose to take flight:
my bud and I
soar to the sky.
And while we're away
they'll hear our mayday;
they'll come to our aid
where our raft is laid.
But we'll not be there
for we glide through the air,
light as the breeze
passing through trees.
When we return,
they won't be concerned,
for it is not a crime
to have fun at bath time.