SCHOONER
I remember the road to pilate farm,
It was a never land.
I rode in the galley with pilate pirate,
it was a roaring galley rowing.
It was ice-bounding through the night,
young frozen hearts beneath Clotilda.
hundred and ten suspended lives,
thirteen days shadowed silence.
forty five suns dipped the blue horizon
alas Alabama and down the sea Clotilda
a new world in canebrakes.
Half a decade away before unshackling the soul.
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