the anchor had been lifted

the horns of the great ship blown

the wind was coming to their side

for the sailing hour to come by

across the pier there stood

many a farewell bidders

some waved a hand

some gave a name

some stood like statues old

I saw myself board on the deck

where the carts of boxes were held

she walked with ease and purposes

of leaving, or perhaps, to flee

unlike the other passengers

she carried no luggage

only a book wrapped in silk

one of mighty power

it speaks of the ancient mariners

and the speaking crows and trees

of weddings, funerals, and baptisms

some merry, some would tease

food and water she could find

as nature always provides

but tales like this and poetry

only those who came home could write

the white steam grew thick to signal

it was time to truly say

their last goodbyes until next time

they share the earth again

she had a journey far ahead

no maps could the sailors draw

once the anchor is lifted

no man can stop its course




drawing credit to JMW Turner “Lucerne from the Lake”, 1851



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