Standing at the edge of the bay,
I imagine a watery grave where lie
Remains of an old Spanish galleon
Laden with silver coins encrusted
Barnacles and unsalvaged treasure,
Where once the buccaneers partied
After a successful foray in a placid sea
In those moments I dance a sarabande
As my vivid imagination runs amok.
written January 5, 2022
Copyright © L MILTON HANKINS | Year Posted 2022
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