The Houseboat

I am the houseboat,
Life dwells within,
Rarely still.
Gliding, thriving,
Trying to keep us both safe,
Yet the fears splinter through
My brain, refusing to be silenced, like an
Unwelcome cricket, inexorable and tenacious.
Anxiety mounts -
Crimson is the color of devastation,
Haunting and palpable.
My little dweller, sugar plum,
Is anything but wooden.
No frost to slow her resolute movements,
Only warm waters within,
As she stretches, kicks, and swims.
And the houseboat will
Carry her through the troubled, cold
Outside waters,
Which will soon
Roll and shock her.
But the houseboat, steadfast and seaworthy,
Will calm and anchor her.