Dennis W. Zineal

THE SAILOR

Moving the Aircraft
Moving them fast
Running for nowhere
Avoiding jet blast

The days are too bright
The nights are too dark
Out on the ocean
There’s nowhere to park

The ship is your haven
The ship is your home
With the fuel that you’ve got
There’s no where to roam

So make it your best
This hunk of gray steel
Too much of this salt
The paint starts to peel

Much like your mind
In another war battle
your life starts to change
Your brain starts to rattle

The stress is too much
The horror too strong
Living a moral conflict
You can’t live too long