Saturday, December 22, 2007

An ode to windsurfing

Sometimes, especially when it's cold outside, I look back on the time when I just had to think about windsurfing and improving my skills so I can market that I can teach more advanced windsurfing skills. This poem is a reflection on the summer season that was filled with surfing and not much else.

Waves of Gold

You see that surfman?
He never falls.
'cause he plays it safe as a cape codder waif
and that's a problem.

He'll never become
Little Kiri Thode.
who came from Bonaire with beads in his hair
and now he's a pro,

whereever he goes...

waves of gold
The coast it glows
with waves of gold

'83 opti champ
It's his first love
and he got to wed in his Nantucket reds
but he's down in his luck
still drinking from his trophy cup.

and he still sees...

The waves of gold
The coast it glows
the waves of gold

Cape cod Wahines
In our board shorts and bikinis
Brown cut back oahus
tearing it up on the fly

don't you forget your place...

If I teach you everything I know
Where will you go?