Like the ocean wave

I hear the wind outside my window. I know now I need some escape. Some freedom. To be content of myself in a little boat, looking up to the sun.
Warm, but without fire. Light, yet without blinding.
The waves lifting, sighing. Speaking their silence. Their contentment to roll. Their peace of breath.
The soft toasted dryness of the planks beneath me. The gentle brush of breeze. A pause. A flick of sail.
So I'd curl up, warm and light, secure against the wood around me, catching sky and water and cloud. Tuck close the softness of a blanket, the smoothness of skin, and the shimmer of sunlit hair. The loss of tension. The loss of pain, of others, of doubt.
Just movement, to somewhere.