The Setting Sun

I spend my days upon the sea.
From land's firm grasp my soul runs free.
I stare at passing gulls that soar,
Until they've gone and pass no more.

The sails flap at changing winds
And dolphins bare their sloping fins.
The tiller kicks as swells resist,
While memories rise of loved ones missed.

The days pass on, and what is done?
No clock is punched, no love is won.
And yet fulfilled in bed I lie,
When sun gives way to moonlit sky.

For often in this sea, called life,
When burdened down with care and strife.
The goal, when all is said and done:
To last until the setting sun.