The Ship of Dreams
The Ship of Dreams is what she was called,
The Queen of the sea; no less.
"Unsinkable," they said, but forgot she could be mauled
'Til her metal hull lay, a twisted, crumpled wreck,
At the murky bottom of the cold hearted North Atlantic.
Her intricate sets of seven grand staircases,
An eventual witness of heart-stopping panic.
...2:20 AM was the time on the lifeless faces.
Her towering smokestacks crumbled like sticks;
The smell of her fresh paint mingled now with the scent of death.
Her stern rose upward, as bodies hit the water like bricks,
The cruel coldness of the Atlantic waters sucking from them their breath.
She was the Ship of Dreams, but that foreboding night,
The moon forsook her, for the sake of her fear.
While many brave stars shone breathtakingly bright,
The ocean stilled, as glassy; as smooth as a single tear;
And the ice in the distance invisible slowly became,
As the waters prepared to swallow the ship,
And banish her famous 'unsinkable' claim.
...They did that night, in a three hour sip.
One thousand five hundred sped to their doom,
Their lives claimed in minutes by the merciless wave;
Screams of their terror arose from the sea like a bloom,
As the beautiful vessel slowly sunk to her soul-crushing grave.
She was called the Ship of Dreams, and she was. She really was.
The Queen of the sea she may not have been through and through,
But the Ship of Dreams she always will be, because
Nightmares are dreams, too.
