One ship two sails shorn.
Sunrise finds her crew
too far from the shore.
Wooden heart cracked
and replaced by cold metal.
Her fabric ***** furiously
sending the sounds of
wind slapping her ***** white sails,
only to find her soft cloth soul
replaced by a hot humming motor.
That engine of destruction which
bristles with fossil fuel's burning energy
or our modern nuclear fury.
My traveler's heart loses
its measured beats
and I gasp in arrhythmia.
In truth, I weep for a sea
that I have never seen
for waves and tides
I have only a passing familiarity.
It is only the fictions
of my fellow word smiths
that lend any resonance.
I see the shiny but choppy surface
In stories on tv, in movies,
or bursting out in beautifully bound books.