Whoosh goes the wind..

And I hear its whistling..

Its singing of pleasantries..

And beautiful faraway things..


The sail has to be righted..

For us to follow.

For the sailor is just a pariah..

And the wind the real king


A cloud of smoke has veiled the dirt

All that’s glittering is seen as gold.

And so we are deceived

and we enjoy the cold..


the banquet is spread

and the guests are drawn

for the sumptuous smell

is irrestible for all..


they eat the garlic bread

and the butter spread

they ooh and aah and shake their heads


one small child is new on the ship

no one knows where she comes from and who she is..


she is bare and cold

and wants a warm roll

to fill her empty insides

and nurture her scroll


she tastes a morsel..

and the verdict is

eww! There is no salt!