Tom, the navigator

Tom, the Navigator

My friend, the first officer, Tom was an heroic looking
navigator, wide legged he stood, as on a heaving deck,
and a rolling gate that attracted the girls; soon he would
be captain on his own ship. But Tom had a dream he
wanted to be a lawyer, a spokesman for the deprived,
so back to university he went studying law.

Years later when I saw Tom again he was defending
a drunk who had fallen asleep in a car not his, magisterial
he was, only his client, now sober, looked embarrassed,
the judge bored, both wished he would come to the point.
No cases had come his way to catch the eye of the press,
aged and ponderous, yet still he waits for his big break.

Tom, the blessed, man lives a dream protected by grand
illusions, so what if he is a lousy lawyer?