Giorgio Venetopoulos - - briny sister

Her figure stood afar, her form
that waved saluting - hence I knew,
we'd meet inside the mists' white dew;
- when I embarked, her eyes were warm.

The Adriatic was that night
half covered by a cotton mist,
- a cloud transforming to the feast
that lingered in the souls' hindsight.

A ghostly ship, a ghostly log
- the briny sister left betimes
addressed us with the sounds of chimes
that rang accordant from the fog.

Harmonious her song had welled
forthright - unearthly was the verse
so blithe and kind in minds rehearse,
thus spoken words beloved and held.

Beloved the maiden and her glow
- from depths my solitude enacts,
while shooting stars on earthward tracks
slipstream to quench by ocean's draw.

The boldness of the ship declines
my nautilus' endangered fare;
it's wrongful to recall her stare,
our bicycling and coastwise pines.

Beloved the waters conn me where
- the ship attends magistral line,
how beautiful the dewdrops shine
upon the grandness of her fair!

Giorgio Venetopoulos

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