The Pier.

Melancholic,
I stood there watching the boats pass by,
The winds filled the sails as tough directing it's course,

Against the rusty pillars of the pier,
The sea would vent it's anger,
Driving and thrusting it's force over and over,
Till it quietly dies off,
Unnoticed by human eyes,

Indifferent, yet concerned,
I was undecided,
My journey of boyhood was reaching an end,
And Now I must traverse to a different land,

I cannot choose which boat to ride,
For each goes to a different place,

So for now... I wait; I contemplate,
I watch the sun and sky for signs,
signs to discern the weather,
For the appropriate time of which I must leave..
This home of mine... or am I yet to be home?