In the quiet cove

surrounded by the hills

which let the sunlight through, at times,

but stop the warmth of sunshine

lies the ship, listless,

loosely tied to what one might call its moorings,

watching the sunlight travel east to west

day in and day out

for........how long? ages? lives?

It's different to-day.

It's not just the western sunlight

falling on the ship to-day.

The hills have parted to show the sun,

its warmth engulfing the ship.

There is magic in the air, music, electricity.

It's not the end of sunlight

and the start of night to-day.

The setting sun brings a golden hue

The rising moon spreads its silver glow

smiling down on the ship.

The sea has sprung to life,

rocking the ship out of ageless slumber.

The ship can feel the sea

engulfing him, slowly, gently,

and responds by caressing her legs.

And gets carried away by their smoothness.

Up, up and still up

until he can feel the silky smoothness

and the moist muskiness

beckoning him to explore

yet unexplored terrains

yet unexplored depths.

The ship springs to life.

The mast is up

the sails are set.

The ship must unto the sea again

The journey into the unknown begins for the twain.

Under the moonlit night

as the tide begins to rise

and the sea engulfs the ship

in the warmth of her tightening embrace

the ship finds comfort

on the sea's flat belly surface.

The ship ventures further

in the increasing storm

both deep inside

and up the velvety form.

The terrain, the experience...

They're all so new for the ship

Never had he sailed such a sea

All endearing, yet all encompassing

Soft and gentle, yet sensuous and violent.

And as the ship explores the sea further up

the rising tides make music within.

Oh! where were these storms

in the years gone by!

And thus the ship continues

in the new found world

of sensuousness and caring

of gentleness and daring

to find a firmer ground

and a stronger mooring?