Pirate’s Garden
I sit upon the cliff top and look far out to sea,
The Moon’s quite bright on this cloudy night, but that’s OK for me.
Hidden behind the foliage in shade and speckled light
I see the ships come sailing in; it’s still a marvellous sight.
One behind another, they head toward the shore
No sound is made from man on board, nor ripples from the oars.
They’re used to travelling in this way, it’s a life they’ve always known,
And tricks to miss the rocks like this show the skills they’ve grown.
Some people call them criminals, thieves, privateers, or worse,
But to them it’s just a way of life, though the sea can be a curse.
They need to collect their gold and gems and rum and other things,
They look like scruffy vagabonds, but need to live like kings.
I sit upon the cliff top and watch as they unload,
And then set sail once again, to fulfil their Pirate’s Code.
The Mansionic Perspective 
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