ANTIGUANICE YACHTING INSIDER NEWSLETTER

How very simple life would be
If only there were two of me
A restless one to drift and roam
A searching one to find his fill
Of varied skies and newfound thrill
While sane and homely things are done
By the domestic other one.

And that’s just where the trouble lies
There is a restless me that cries
For chancy risks and changing scene
For arctic blue and tropic green
For deserts with their mystic spell
For lusty fun and raising hell

But schackled to that restless me
My other self, rebeliously
Resists the frantic urge to move
It seeks the old familiar groove
That habits make, it finds content
With hearth and home, dear prisonment
With candlelight and well-loved books
And treasured loot in dusty nooks

With puttering and garden things
And dreaming whilst a cricket sings
And all the while the restless one
Insists on more exiting fun
It wants to go with every tide
No matter where . . . just for the ride
Like yowling cats the two selves brawl
Until i have no peace at all.

One eye turns to the forward track
The other eye looks sadly back
I’m getting wall eyed from the strain
It’s tough to have an idle brain
But one says “stay” and one says “go”
And one says “yes” and one says “no”
And one self wants a home and wife
And one self craves the drifters life

The restless fellow always wins
I wish my folks had made me twins.

By Don Blanding; submitted by Frank Pearce