“A Pirates Tale”

Bones and Gold

Will that be what’s left of me when I’m old

Will I remember the stories I’ve lived to be told

My legacy has yet to unfold

I pray not to be a praised tragic tale

In my past life, a sailor setting sail

Fog, mist, former friends

Caught in a net suspended over my dreams

I’ve made my peace with my hand and pipe

The mystic haze of my life

Not chasing after gold doubloons

but to the rhythm of the oceans tune