Flaming skies, a white devil moon
Watching the galleons fighting through rough seas
Birds hover above, waiting to pick over dead bones.
Let them wait, the dead are thrown overboard,
the adventure isn’t over yet.
There is gold beneath these waves and the captain means to find it.
The men desperate, after months away from home
Waiting for their share. Some fighting,
trying to convince the captain there is more
buried on shore than under the boat.
Diving, too slow, perilous. The men want to get on shore.
One believing he has a map, leading to three hiding places
Of buried treasure, they persuade the captain to abandon the dive.
Leaving a skeleton crew on board, they row the small boats ashore,
They land on black sand, greeted by total silence.
Moving slowly into the undergrowth, the men disappear from history.
Would you go on such a journey, for the chance of a handful of gold?
© Anita Dawes 2021