Man Finds His Pot Of Gold

Man Finds His Pot Of Gold

I would like to get on my own boat someday.
Plot my course and sail away.
I have a long distance goal in mind.
That pot of gold at the end of the line.
The one that is at the end of all rainbows.
The one that is out where the grain grows.
That ‘non-existent’ prize awaits.
For anyone to get who has the faith.
Maybe it won’t be actual gold.
Maybe it will be something untold.
I will recognize it when it comes along.
I will be dancing and singing my song.
Finally, the day did arise.
I quit my job and set off to find the prize.
I had studied sailing. I was skilled in my ways.
There would never be a better day.
I sailed from here to there.
After awhile, I had been almost everywhere.
Then, I finally sailed home.
I was back and all alone.
This beautiful woman was at my port.
She said “Nice boat. You must be a real sport.”
I told her everywhere I had been.
She said she wished she had gone then.
We got to talking, and before long,
we were having lunch and singing our song.
I invited her to go out on a short sail.
She accepted. She loved sailing, without fail.
In a couple months I realized I found it.
That prize. That pot of gold. I could quit.
I found what I was looking for.
It was here all along. Right at my door.
It was her, who is now my wife.
Looks like happy sailing for the rest of my life.

———————————–R. W. Johnson—–(2016)