Built a boat with boards of wood,
made with junk I knew was good.
Drifted on the seven seas,
searching for the birds and bees.
Saw new lands; north, east, south and west,
returning home, thought it best.
My ship now sits on a stand,
fearful of the careless hand.
Now if this vessel were too to break,
with scraps of wood I will remake.
Fitted then in a case of glass,
reflecting time for all who pass.
And if this glass too shall smash,
its shards of glass tossed to the trash.
With broken sticks pulled from within,
my craft of new will then begin.