Mighty Blue (2) , Island Prisms Poem by Captain Cur

Terse winds were full, fought hard the sails
pure white as maiden gowns,
the ship and sea in courtships dance
no virgin pretense found.
Rivulets of tears salt the cheeks
when bride and bridesmaid sing
upon the pillowed sunlit waves
lie both the golden rings.

The wedding bell sounds loud and shrill,
sea urchins line the aisle;
shimmering guests surround our boat
whales laugh and dolphins smile.
Flying fish create an arch
our ship slow passing through,
we cheer and raise our glasses high
and toast the mighty blue.

At night the full moon resting low
romancing sea and ship
floating through reflective rays
in her lover’s tender grip,
skies of dark crimson hues
unveil with celestial grace
the fingers of the bride’s caress
upon her bridegroom’s face.

Island prism’s infectious sands
adorn her perfumed breast,
within them the deep wealth of life
the waters of her flesh;
flowered leafs of pearled bouquets
each tossed out blindlessly
promises of eternal love
vowed to the bridal sea.