Silence on the smoke deck at quarter to three
The stars are about playing their darkest hour
Four fall from the furthest corner and whisper into the sea
Drawing up colors of algae as green melt into the waves
There is no feeling like the China sea
Not a ship is in sight for days becoming weeks
As I turn to speak some words a marine lights his square
Instead I bite my tongue
I know to let him be
Because like me there are few times like these
Just enjoying the soothing sounds
Of the beauteous rhythm of the North Pacific Sea
