Thoughts in Some Wet Wind

I can smell the wet air and can feel the damp soil,
I can ride oceans and seas to find the first summer foil;
In a country with some unknown crowd and words of a less learned strain,
I breathe in and dwell in a dreamland of body and some brain.

Sometimes the blowing wind would shudder a tremble in me,
As I hold a hot cup of coffee and attempt to look through my bunch of key;
The key which locks out a future of some hope and some memory
Of past and of the let-go days' territory.

I stand as I feel the wet rainy wind blow my face,
I see, I hope, I expect, I disgress
To a future adorned with all the best of the gone-by times,
And a lot to do for those yet to come - but yet what rhymes
Is a promise - a pledge that life has bore all through,
As I enjoy and work my way as a ship's crew.
A journey as meandering it could be
Yet as many dreams as there could possibly be!