The middle of the night,
When the moon had eloped.

A cool breeze drifted,
sails fluttered,
leaves danced,
The sound of water lapping.

A boat inched its way to shore,
With a single soul on board,
just barely alive.

The hold overflowed,
locked behind a heavy door,

On the deck,
a man sat against the black wall,
his charred chest rasped,
A crow watched from a mast.

In his half open hand,
A half written poem,