The Old Steamboat

Thu, 01/05/2017 - 15:45 -- Katiej1

The young steamboat glides through the bright blue waters

His engine is pristine,

His propeller rotates as fast as a hummingbird.

ThSo youne young steamboat has no problem riding the calm waves.

The captain pulls the horn rope, the sound fills the airs

like childrens laughter.

So young and jubliant.


As time goes by, the old steamboats gets haggard.

The blossoming steamboat it once was,

had grown tired.

The glossy silver propeller had grown rusty,

moves like an oar in a canoe.

The engine to exlude its strength.


As the young steamboat may have grown old,

the memmories of it will last forever.

Riding the waves,  the delightful sound of the horn.


New steamboats come, old steamboats go,

but, the memories will last a lifetime,

of its time at the sea






This poem is about: 
My family


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