"Ode to the Christine Anderson" - A Tribute

There is a place I know,
where the wind off the sea always blows.
It's there for the traveller and it's there for the taking;
for the ferry's a vessel that holds memories in waiting.
She ages with grace and her smile's never fading.

Anxious faces alike, new and returning,
she savors them aboard,
for she knows it's the island for which they are yearning.
But when they've swum their last swim,
and the sun's had it's turn - to warm, tan and burn,
they'll lick their last cone from the general store
and she'll be awaiting to take them ashore.