The skipper clung on as a limpet.
He hung onto the rails on top of the deck.
His eyes filled with  sky and petrified.
The swell erupted, as did his belly.
That old wooden ship, my how she did lurch.
Rolled, while riding the tide.
Those breaking bows how they did move.
A ploy to escape the saline plethora.
Neptune, he wanted to sneer her, lead her crew to certain death.
The seabirds circled over head.
A portent that all on board soon would be dead.
The sea deceased, the sky clouds creased.
Wind and weather united together.
And still they became.

Those dangerous seas.
Breath of new morning crept into sight.
The grey man'o'war, he slid alongside.
"Ahoy" was heard, but only by birds.
As the modern crew cried.
An eerie air, greeted the crew.
The moment in time, when old did meet new.
In the galleon's galley, the crew all cremated.
What happened, nobody knew.
What ever happened the night the wind blew?
(c) Livvi