© G.V. 02-06-2013, All Rights Reserved
For one odd week we sailed towards Azores,
a strange route was on new, parallel lines,
I heard your hoarse voice saying from the brines,
"be careful of the Southern stars".
Three winds' gust-demons danced on iron wood,
foolishly we joined them drinking the grog,
I heard your voice from the insides of fog,
"north stormy winds thump on the hood".
We danced and danced with death tracking on sight,
his ghostly vessel floated in distance,
we laughed at his macabre contrivance,
- with illuminated deck's lights.
Dunnages creaked, and then I swear, I heard
your eerie voice to express a verdict,
"the vessel's crew should depart derelict,
- embark in boats and be deferred."
I heard the reef rock shattering the bilge,
the vessel heeled to starboard, cut across,
destined to lie on sand and seaweed moss.
with our souls close to her effulge.
We passed that night above our homes' roadsted,
dancing and drinking through our way to hell,
you heard our fog horn weeping and bow bell,
signal from mists that we were dead?
© G.V. 02-06-2013