Gold dubloons, guineas and crowns,
Grand ships and coves, the shining sea…
All pale substitutes for your renown.
My heart, with no hyperbole,
Has become a reliquary
For maps charting my dreams of you.
No sextant guides me half as clearly
To where skies are always blue.
Your First Mate,
Grace
Written as a Short Sonnet – June 4, 2025