A sailing ship

the amateurish knot slips

and a sea worthy vessel

comes unmoored

through tumultuous seas

and gale force winds

where sinking


at the very least

a worthy throw of the dice

drifting lazily in the fog

a beacon passes

and passes

and passes

like a sundial

over its stalwart mast

whereon it rests


the haven of a hidden cove

a curious traveler

swims to her hanging ropes

and climbs to her deck

he wonders for her ballast

and cargo

and in her captain’s cabin

he finds a small chest

inlaid with sparkling green gems

so ordinary

and yet

so extraordinary

he finds the captain’s key

hanging on a rusted nail

and he slowly opens

this box of carved wood

there nestled

in tartan plaid

is but a single pearl

the creaking of the wooden planks

and the clanging of the forward bell

speak nothing so loud

as his beating heart

he hears a soft step


and turns

hand on one hip

eyebrow raised

the spirit of the ship

stands ready

sword of tempered steel

in hand

en garde

a challenge

he opens his arms one to each side

i have no weapon


yes good sir

but you have my pearl.

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