The Paper Boat

The desk becomes an ocean,

And I am just a paper boat,

Drowning in a sea of ink,

Barely keeping myself afloat.

The papers rise like tidal waves,

Pulling me further from shore,

The tasks stack like looming cliffs,

While I yearn for the calm I once wore.

The clock is a distant lighthouse,

Its light flickers, faint and thin,

I’d rather have you wrapped in my arms,

Than lost in this tide I’m caught within.

Your laugh is the wind that fills my sail,

A whisper of warmth through the cold air,

But I’m chained to this desk, a prisoner,

In a storm that I simply must bear.

I fight through the current with all that I have,

Chasing the dawn of a golden tide,

With every stroke, I carve out a path,

Drawn to the hope you keep inside.

One day I’ll fold this storm away,

The sea will calm, the waves will cease,

I’ll find the shore where you wait,

And let your embrace bring me peace.