On crescent ships lost
In suffering arctic waters.
Tossing and turning in exhaust.
Losing myself in frigid cold.
My stomachs churning,
Besought of hyperthermia or
Just the seasickness that's burning.
Ice flourishes like tree mold.
Somber silence I weep
For warmth of a cozy bed
And the love that's asleep
Waiting, waiting to burn away the cold.
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