in a xebec,
we sail...
seas,
of turqoise, teal
and cerulean blues...
with horses white and alabaster,
galloping in wavelets,
beside,
the creaking mahogany,
hand caulked hull.
the brass once shining bright
is now speckled,
by the salt of posiedon's
briny brow

above the masts.
one two and three,  
hold the lanteen sails,
set free, in a flurry
of canvas hysteria.
full and billowing,
now,
they propel us,
gently onward.

you and i recline,
undecorously,
on a plethora,
of bright morrocan cushions.
like bees,
busily rummaging,
among the flower petals.

as the sun sings the days
lullaby,
in the east,
in notes of tangerine and  buttercup yellow.