In the dark mid-night the moon was crescent

The shores were teeming of an azure dream

Presenting a creepy luminescence

Releasing an echo of deadly screams

Pondering if things are dependable

Contemplating the sounds of come-hither

Seeing that some things are commendable

The waves calling to me from somewhiter

The ocean’s sounds a sneaky suspicion

Will this journey of mine be imparadise?

A black cat crosses, high superstition

“No.” I think, “it will be sacrifice.”

“Away!” they called, “the ocean is frigid.”

“Away, away!” Called again, so I did