The hushing of the ship's wake was our lullaby, anaesthesia for our sea monster fears, allowing the audacity of hope to enter our waking dreams.
The rock-a-bye deck with gentle drunken swagger, brought a kind of destitute lull, yet the kind hope-kissed and smile-warmed in sweet chaotic providence.
Into the bonny waves, toward a sun between rise and set, the ship drew her wake with steady and confident ease.
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