Many boats sail away, with the tides they sway. Searching for shores afar, always near, yet so far. Almost there, but not quite where they wanted to be.
Some boats stay on the shore, soak up the sun not wanting any more. Holes in the bases, quite beyond repair. Content in the placid unconformity, basking over the halcyon stretch of the sea. Left behind, of their own volition.
I am a new boat, feeling quite old. Let me stay on the shore.
Photos: Fishermens Settlement, Colaba