A flotilla sits anchored at sea,

A chain-link of unfurled white finger sails.

Bobbing gently on a brine of wax green,

Golden pillowed life rafts with pearlesque rails.

They demand only deserved attention,

Serene these vessels with cargoes of hope.

Beauty in simplicity, do not shun,

The iridescence that keeps them afloat.

Circadian stars with no need of night,

Dazzling armada, sunlight reflectors.

Amongst the mundane green they shine so bright,

Daring in rising above all others.

Jealousy calling, Captains hear it now,

Soaring forbidden, blade brings final bow.

 

 

 

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