Storm and winds were howling, together,
the ship behind left white arctic ranges,
askance fading lines, on course changes,
our allegiance to danger on any weather.
Out on the faraway, blue binded to dusk,
our childhood voices echoed in recognition,
placed close to solitude of worn rendition,
afore shedding impertinent wine brusque.
Outside was the Northern winds and cold,
and cold - and promises left to a far land,
offward land, conding a ship, as to expand,
all left behind was a dark smoke to unfold.
Broken was the night route to a free port,
recall? Lines alleged to gleam and radiate,
so you engaged silences, airy to propriate,
inscribing route and reach to ride athwart.
Captain said: "Ride betwixt winds and tide";
wrath of Odin was and of Norwegian dome,
lightning sparkled and we thought of home,
a wed bouquet of roses, and distant brides.
I saw you standing as Sunday gleam of then;
splendiferous laced radiancy an' ever smooth,
the ship sonds and shares spelling forsooth,
a blank paper upon my desk, a fountain pen...
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