One dusky eve on the cold decks
of a wandering German freighter,
storm clouds loomed afar.
The ghostly hulk of a war torn ship
bobbed darkly on the horizon,
a silhouette against the struggling sun.
The rain came then, pouring in sheets
and fog rolled through the salty air.
I could have sought refuge from the icy drops,
but stood a firm vigil on the slippery bow,
and vowed, to remember this eerie,
chilly night forever aboard
the old Green Wave.
copyright 2004 D.A. Chadwick