S.O.S.

S.O.S.
Form: Free Verse

Crushing waves battle
with the rage of tempestuous winds
tossing the little boat
between themselves like a ping pong ball
battered
her sails tattered and torn
and her mast lost to the deep
as his lone voice shouts
“mayday”
“mayday”
over the radio
“S.O.S”
and the boat is again thrown
between wave and wind
three bodies huddled in a cabin
not daring to stare at the swirling sea
inviting their souls to the deep
three souls clinging on to life
clinging on to the impossibility of chance
“mayday”
“mayday”
“S.O.S.”
and wishful thinking hears the wailing response
yet dare not believe it was more than an echo of wind
as death draws ever near
and eyes dare not see
the metal grey walls of a frigate
with its siren wailing
“we’re here”
“we’re here”

©JGFarmer2022

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