He found the boat in the tall reeds.  It was hard to see initially but once he finally started into the water he was sure of what it was.  It was dirty and old enough it no longer reflected the sun.  It was a tired metal that was neglected.

He often came to this river.  Wishing to sail down it.  He had never seen another life around it.  Rarely even any animals.  Today he had seen a slow frog.  But today brought treasure.  Old beat-up treasure.  

He freed the boat of its trap.  Ignoring the water and mud and reeds.  He never thought of the source of the boat.  Only its promise.  He didn't care what it looked like.  To him it was gold.  Floatable gold.

He found that he couldn't get the water and mud out of the boat.  He only brought in more water trying to tip it.  So he just left it.  He pushed off.  And he jumped in.

He scratched his shin on the jump.  Landed awkwardly.  And smiled big.  He set himself up in the middle.  Swaying and splashing as he positioned himself.  He upset the water.  But in the end it returned to its silence.  And he floated.  And he breathed.  

He was free.  He sat in his island of mud and metal watching the nothing around him.  Soon he layed himself down in the boat.  Awkwardly and noisily he battled the boat.  Finally he got himself prostrate on its floor.  Mud and water washing his back and his hair.  The rocking of the boat rolled his head against the metal.  He knew his head would hurt but the rhythm was entrancing.  He could hear the song.  And to this he fell asleep.

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