TRAVEL
Frost rimed bows nudge underwater caverns of invisible glass
as our despairing breath huffs into wraithes of souls lost at sea
we lay clothed shivering in sleeping bags listening through the hull
whales sing their songs of hopeless melody warning of yet dreamt nightmares
ice fields which groan like a brittle choir in pain and quiet grave like cold
like a white linen shroud where the ghosts of Titanic lifeboats row in endless agony
Newfoundland Banks envelopes and caresses cold to the bone and eerily chilled
sailing on a steaming pond or gliding through a memory of death
no talking on the quarter deck strange hushed voices in a frozen church
this graveyard of the Atlantic with its rusting harvest of wrecks...
as our despairing breath huffs into wraithes of souls lost at sea
we lay clothed shivering in sleeping bags listening through the hull
whales sing their songs of hopeless melody warning of yet dreamt nightmares
ice fields which groan like a brittle choir in pain and quiet grave like cold
like a white linen shroud where the ghosts of Titanic lifeboats row in endless agony
Newfoundland Banks envelopes and caresses cold to the bone and eerily chilled
sailing on a steaming pond or gliding through a memory of death
no talking on the quarter deck strange hushed voices in a frozen church
this graveyard of the Atlantic with its rusting harvest of wrecks...
