Watery Grave
century later in a watery grave
souls of the elite as well as peons
float about the wreckage
boarding in Southampton
Dad carried jewels to sell in the States
I, just a teen, came along to see the sights
Dad’s money purchased rooms on the top tier
artistically designed ball room was aglow
bright lights, sumptuous food and fancily-clad dancers
in my youth, I cared naught for such things
down the stairway I flew to see the lower class
strumming guitars and telling raunchy jokes
but the joke was on me it seems
suddenly, the boat hit an iceberg
on the lower level I was trapped
screams were heard above
as passengers sought seats on lifeboats
not enough room, fear ignited
ship took on water; we felt it first
still trying to find a way to the top deck
once there, I saw Dad had left me behind
lights were still on as the boat tore in half
on the bow I stood with a small crowd
as into the icy waters we dropped
tried to swim; the sea was too cold
on my maiden voyage, much like the ship,
I succumbed as screams faded
my spirit so lively, it could not die
with 1,517 others my soul was held captive below
New York was not our final destination
Dad made it to the Big Apple
no family with him as he made his financial deal
what he earned fell short of what he lost
century later in this same watery grave
souls of the elite as well as peons
float about the wreckage, praying for release
*Entry for Tracie’s “My Heart Will Go On” contest
Written March 29, 2012
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