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an onslaught of blustery wind blew
across the rocky cove
where the hull of a cargo ship lay
was caught in the turbulence of the rough sea
as it sailed to the port town of Dalmont
strong gales lashed the deck
and broke the rigging
such disaster befell the crew
all perished on that moonless night
with ferocity the elements
did conspire against
the ship and its hapless occupants
no news of where the ship finally rested
came to light until nineteen thirty five
a coastal surveying team
spotted the wreck a mile out to sea
the ghostly skeletal hull
sat askew on a rock ledge
in a small dinghy
they rowed
toward the shore
to make inquiry of the ship's remains
the only object they found
was the navigator's
sextant
The poem is of my imagination. It was written some nine years ago.

— The End —