Of Woman, of Man (Descending into Davy Jones' Locker)

Of Woman, of Man (Descending into Davy Jones' Locker)      January 24, 2011

Precious words float away upon the ocean currents.

Water chills my skin, icily, without purpose.

A woman, so beautiful, so lush, sails onto my island

Like a tsunami crashing into an oceanic land mass.

Oh, she is beautiful, too beautiful to be real,

And yet here she is, speaking to me, over me,

Riding my wave home with her two sails a-fluttering

From the gale force winds propelling her ship.

She is possessed like a heart from Hell,

Yet, she coyly pushes on like an "angelic vixen."

Eventually, my tides spike quite a fever,

Igniting sole purpose to make her rock harder,

Until the big wave comes and sinks the beauty,

And thus, you have the marriage of love:

Of woman, of man, descending into Davy Jones' Locker.