Friend's Ship.
Ben Dunne.
A harbour's cruel farewell,
to a relationship's time.
Amongst which the sailors dwell,
beneath the silky vine.
They toil and they moan,
believing all's not lost.
An alleviating groan,
can penetrate the frost,
but the frost will break slow,
this of course, the sailors do not know.
For it'll be a cruel strike to blow,
a punch so dirty, so low.
They have their pride,
those who did not, simply died.
Yet over the horizon's sight,
comes a sickness, as a blight.
The disease of love,
raining forth, like hurtling fire,
storming down from above,
fuelling the sailors' desire.
The flames melt the frost,
broken, smashed, bost.
The waters freshly clear,
the coast echoes to cheers.
For now the port is used,
as the sailors, battered and bruised,
run to their escape, their ship,
their anchored friendship.
