There was once a
landlocked sailor,
all lost and weary.
Deserted.

He kept walking,
his legs inches deep,
in sand, seemingly
a quicksand.

Many mirages on his way,
none to quench his thirst.
There it was, an oasis?
He rejoiced, at the sight of water.

It was an ocean,
as he realised later.
The sand wasn't
from the desert,
but from the bay.

The sailor no longer sails,
he flies over this ocean.
The ocean gave him wings,
and a merry song he sings:

Happy Birthday to YOUrQuote.
The tides here are HARSH,
but not when on my boat.

- Landlocked Sailor