There she be, a withered monument, stoic in her timeless expression, a tired wench with a creaky spine. She winks at the ocean, that salty bastard and his reckless angels. Where have we been together, on stormy nights and fog, a vessel in search of lost light…

The moon knows our lust, that silver bullet hanging loose among frisky stars, placed there by sour damsels and rum. What pinch of the captain's bottom, her soggy ropes have danced with fools, a heavenly anthem for Spanish lovers lost.

Where to shall we ride this wave, due north I say, for tender babes and ports unknown. Let this starlight be my guide, for my broken hull can take no more. Leave me here, this battered workhorse, a final yawn before sinking into darkness. Send my love in this withered bottle, a romantic kiss for deep sunsets and home…