The Caravan Poem by John Lars Zwerenz

THE CARAVAN

We left the harbor in the rain.
Our galleys had to flee.
For our vessels were too far out of safety
To anchor in the sea.

The billowing waves, all cresting and ivory
Almost tossed us over twice
As I saw the wintry breeze,
Colder than arctic ice,
Destroy the distant linden trees
On the shore one mile away.

No sunlight shone, it was banished whole.
The sky grew worse as the dying day
Cost one poor sailor the ultimate price
As the greedy, old ocean swallowed his soul.

A princess came along on my ship.
Her face was fair, and her frame was dark.
She possessed more loveliness than all coquets.
She offered to me her wild perfume,
And her lips of the rose
Which owned all of heaven's heights
As they did softly unclose
In the nascent sunsets
Of those furious, stormy, autumn nights.

And so we reached the Spanish Main;
The firmament was calm, and fragrant with the scent
Of terracotta statues, and paths of mossed cement
Which shone like gold beneath the dusky sky.
I asked for her hand
On a mount near a grand
Throng of sweet gondolas in a courtyard high.

And her sanctified "yes" spoke with love in a sigh.

JOHN LARS ZWERENZ