Ss Trump Poem by Göran Gustafsson

The wind will cease and the ship will drift
And the telltale's rose will be swirling
In a crash of thunder the wind will shift
And the gusts of the storm will be whirling

With all sails torn and with fading lights
The ship will sign her very last deal
To sail the North Sea in the darkest of nights
With a blindfolded helmsman lashed to the wheel

From a distant past cries a laughing gull
To the wrecked ship of the Capitol
When she slowly ascends from the burning sea
To rest among the stars where she ceases to be

Copyright © 2017 Göran Gustafsson. All rights reserved