Back in the distance stood her form
she waved saluting - and I knew,
our life had stopped , the distance grew,
- when I embarked, her glance was warm.
The Adriatic was that night
calm - covered by a cotton mist,
- she shroud became, of our last feast
that lingered in the souls first light.
And ghostly was the old ship's log
- fair ocean sister - end betimes
she covered us with sounds of chimes
that rang harmonic from the fog.
Like Sirens' voices their sound welled
forthright - unearthly was their verse
so blithe and kind in minds rehearse
thus spoken words beloved and held.
Brines' sister, distance and faint glow
- from depths my solitude enacts,
while shooting stars on earthward tracks
night-race to quench by ocean's draw.
The boldness of the ship declines
the nautilus' endangered fare;
it's wrongful to recall her stare,
our bicycling and coastwise pines.
Brines' sister song conducts in air
- our magistral attended line,
how beautiful the dewdrops shine
- aloneness floats on seaward fare.
© G.V. 04-21-2013