Sang froid
The earl picked up an early peach
Then walked alone to the beach.
He sailed away in a little boat
Leaving behind a one line note.
I will be back by five o’clock,
Said the writing on the lock.
But a huge wave had sunk his boat
Forcing him to swim in his coat.
Still, by five he arrived at home,
Changed to dry clothes, read a tome.
Then to his wife he said smiling:
Wet Ocean, but swim was trifling.
poem by Paul Hartal
Added by Poetry Lover
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