Dream Wench

The water was frigid the anchor was froze frosty clouds hovered beyond his big nose The silence then held him as he stood on the dock no way to tell time from the ship and the clock A pelican eyed him from under the sea death had released him so now he could be His buckles now icebergs they tickled his waist the bread he had made were now piles of paste His sox were the striped ones and so were his pants his tales of the sea devoid of romance He's shackled and lonely he misses his wench she sits and surrounds him from the seat of a bench His tri cornered hat with the feather so grand laps in the surf and slaps at the sand He spins once around and holds lantern so high The moon his connection they never will die C May 23 2004 Dream Wench

Me hearties ! Due to circumstances beyond me control...I'll be findin' meself in the states of New Mexico, Colorado, and Arizona fer this Summer. Granted..they have water available....(and Pirates, no doubt..from all persuasions)...but do ye have an idea where I might find a few of me own kind ? When I get me Garb to the pleasin' of the eye..I will share a few pictures of me self. Ahoy ! Sand camels ! Swab the ....RV....then hoist the solar panels....scan the horizon fer the Jolly Roger....