Metaphoar

I.

I keep losing my oars

In the sea of life

But I guess that's okay,

Because all of the oars have hurt me at one time or another,

Or just weren't the right pair for the conditions I was facing.

One pair gave me blisters all over my hands,

Another, slivers

Another pair was too small

And a further pair was too big,

The oars didn't fit me yet,

But maybe they will some other day.

My boat capsized once, I lost it in a swell,

Though I managed not to lose my oars.

I found a new boat, but my old,

Familiar oars didn't fit into the oarlocks.

II.

I keep losing or discarding my oars in the sea of life,

Storm or calm

But you know what?

That's all right.

I'm growing and changing,

And in the midst of once again losing my current pair,

But even as I lose these, I can see new ones on the horizon,

Though the sea takes away,

It will always give anew.

III.

I keep losing my oars

But the sea of life is ever changing,

As I must be.

IV.

And right now, my dear,

I have not the oars required to write this poem to it's full potential.

But as I strain and try my hardest with my current pair, 

I am honing my strength, so that when the time comes,

I will be able to wield a new pair comfortably and confidently.