Cisco is now fully awake. Whitefield won’t let him out of bed yet but he should be good to go by tomorrow. Wagner remains unconscious. Whitefield fears the worst. Every night I sit by his bedside. I tell him everything that he has missed. Sometimes I’ll recite a poem for him. Wagner always liked my poems.
We’re still heading towards Argo Bay although I wonder if we should stop somewhere else. Perhaps a town doctor would be able to do more for my dear friend. I will be in conference with Whitefield and Milton about this shortly. Maybe even Cisco.
For now, I was digging through some of my old files and found a charming little poem that I wrote when I was young, still a school boy before getting a job as a navy cabin boy. A river bordered the forest land just outside town. It was one of the wealthier towns in the kingdom too, near to the capital but not quite there. As a result, some older gentlemen had access to the developing industry of Stills. My father made us get our portrait done by men with Still Shutters every year. One of these guys offered to capture a Still for me to go with poem for class. My classmates hated me for it. None of their fathers were in the navy so none of them had access to what I did.
Anyway, here is the poem and I will attach the Still after it.
Standing adrift in thought
Watching the serene river as it gently brushes the shore
Watching the peaceful undisturbed surface
Undisturbed until a small family of ducks float by
Tasting the moist air on my tongue
Feeling the gentle breeze ruffle my hair
Smelling the fragrant aroma of plant life
Hearing the soft chat of birds
Experiencing the wonderful life of the river
and all that inhabits it
I’ll let you know how things go.