The little black boat
was there for long
ferrying commuters
to and fro;
The oars were used by
familiar cold hands,
The boat made of
wood and nails
was rugged and firm;
Pilgrims sat on it,
leaving behind
trails of memories-
the incessant talks
echoing in the river.
The wooden deck
trampled by
soiled and hurried feet.
The boat while
anchored ashore
waits for the next voyage;
Solitary, it stands strong
tethered yet resolute
for it must carry on;
For years it has done so,
the little black boat
was there for long
ferrying to and fro.
By Nandini Sengupta
@metaphors_of_life
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