Epic Battle at Sea

Epic Battle at Sea
The ocean breeze gusts discretely across the sails of her bow.
A British frigate, square-rigged for war lay in the sea, off Macau.
While the upwelling of the azure sea, vibrates against the stern.
Beneath a cloud in shades darkness, the sunglow emits no burn.

Within eyes reach, a tranquil seashore in golden grains of sand,
With visions of crustacean, basking in tides, crawling slow to land.
Sailors wanting to feel the beach-sand under the coconut shade.
Denied all leave for the readiness of battle for the Brockton Maid.

The whim of war is the sailor's sense of duty to his comrades of kin.
The evil serpents of Spain have reared their heads, posturing in sin.
Off on the streams of blue oceans from the saltines river seas of end.
Bravery of the sailors and marines for a country they have to defend.

Out in the distant a Spanish armada of discontent comes ever near.
While the British fleet sails directly for, without deliberation of fear.
The Spanish armada stilled in the swell of waves from a torrent sea.
As the British fleet in gust of wind, under cannon volley taste victory.

The toxic dark skies from guns dust rain upon the seas of Spanish ships.
While masks and shafts fall down on decks in thunderous quivers of lips.
The dismemberment of death lay floating on the raft of drifting sea winds.
The Captain of the Brockton Maid honors the seamen on their glorious win.