by Nick Gisburne
As elegant and ancient as the sea
Her fate has inexplicably decreed
A torment, which may only set her free
When tides and time decide that she may feed
She craves to capture sailors with her bait
A chorus of unfathomable sound
And always that intolerable wait
Until the ship is broken, run aground
The woman, old, unsightly, sheds a tear
For this, the sole survivor of the wreck
She whispers not to worry, not to fear
But severs every sinew of the neck
And witness to the wonder in his eyes
At last her beauty blossoms as he dies
