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About This Poem
The Last Vessel
A brush of wind sweeps over the shore
Festering white caps on the ocean waves
Disembodied voices I have heard before
Rise from the mist of the liquid haze
White angel wings spread wide and low
Swooping down below the crimson wide
Welcoming trollers, row by row
As night beckons the coming of the tide
The sun is clinging to the edge of the earth
One last vessel, worn and spent
Lags far behind, from home and hearth
Yet with sense of long day's sweat,
At end of day, from travels, far
It cuts a furrow in the stars
For Francine's Contest :"On The Ocean Waves"
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