The Sindia a Treasure Fable

Hyacinth garden

My day is now curled in the hues of Jersey shore sunsets

static creation the day has its end, as night resets

Cape May Lighthouse lavish me in candle power

upon the light, my imagination flies in this purplish hour

waves roll over the consequence of Her shipwreck

with the eyes of an ancient mariner I reflect

Capt'n MacKenzie, failed in his solemn promise to safely sail Her

who made Her steel hull, bow and stern, who do we refer?

Her wood and metal were not immune to the stormy turbulent seas

waves crashed upon Her decks and drowned all Her moaning pleas

Nor’ Easter shattered Her sails and rigging to shreds

one hundred and six years later, She’s buried in sandy beds

She sailed like a slow boat to China and beyond the horizon

on December 15, 1901, she sank, now she wears a watery blazon

a settled vessel that lies between the fingers of yearly sand bars

and the gulls call to Her again, beneath the sequined ageless stars

primitive touch She sleeps within Atlantic’s sacred scent

off of Peck’s Beach to the bottom She was sent, with Poseidon's consent

night cast its black, as a three foot wave and foam hit the shore

on Her side from fates numb hands, Sindia you are no more

in the velocity and ferocity her sinking rests and She is now found in the treasure fables

never to sail again or make port and moor from her stretched and taut cables

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