What Lays Between
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white capped peaks appear then go
cresting mountains blue and green
with prayers that triton’s spear won’t show
we cross what lays between
old skalds tell of the tempest’s wrath
this realm no man’s to own
if careless of the swell and trough
you’ll reap the seeds you’ve sewn
with wary looks cast overboard
caulked timbers flex and cry
and oaths that seek divine accord
entreat the leaden sky
I promise I’ll go between no more
I’ll not sail again I swear
but then I itch to leave the shore
to once more be out there
so I’ll live in fear of her cold embrace
of the pull and her sway over me
when she calls my name with guileful grace
my mistress of the sea
Copyright © Marcus Whitnell | Year Posted 2023
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