The Minstrels
A spectral ghost ship rides the fog
outlined by the spray of the waves;
Blurred vision of watery graves
serves to bring life to epilogue;
Generations speak of legends
walking past the forgotten pier;
What is true or false is unclear,
with every share the story bends;
Far fetched tale of hunting for gold,
the kidnapped gave in to the fray;
Spite lingered elders tend to say,
fleet of vengeful hitmen turned cold;
Now is it pirates or captives
that we see on a moonlit night?
We can’t be sure but it just might
be the minstrels who choose who lives.
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