Do Imbue

For the meantime I am on a ship alone
With a mate that once declared me his own.
The men we hung are nearly dead.

I remember one time when a plague hit crew
I sewed all my ribs as a bed for you;
For your chambers left unfed.

Eight mice had made their homes in the row of shoes
On the starboard bow where the cold wind blew
Whenever he bathed me there.

He said "Antoinette, if there is anyting left
When we return to the place we've theft
I will grow roses in your hair."

But the sky was sick and that heat was fierce,
The kind not born of passion's tears,
And thoses roses faded black.

He said, "Hold our child, when you see her eyes,
As I held you in the ocean's tides..."
I cried, "You musn't look back!"