A naked woman upon the figurehead Standing proud in the breeze Calling to the Sirens & wenches Knowing the truth of these seas Her beauty remaining firm & intact The ship around her orange with rust The sailors with splinters in their palms For she has a wooden bust
Two lost souls, like beachcombers Looking for lost things; love & such Distant memories of happiness The feeling of being needed; a touch Nestled within a Siren’s lullaby We never could grasp our fate Shrugging off the daily struggles Our only choice is to circumnavigate
Hanging with beach bums & bashful babes Swimming in the surf on late Spring days Colorful flavors poured gently over ice Skin glowing after hours in the pleasant rays
I thought I saw a Sea Hag along the sand Though she revealed herself to be a Siren Coaxing & teasing me with her demure allure Whispering that I might be a modern Lord Byron
Uncomfortable with compliments of any sort I quietly pull out my pen to jot down an ode Her eyes grow wide, then a smirk & a wink Simultaneously my mind, heart & loins explode