Upon the lit, late, night-blue sky,
Lay a queen cutting into her chocolate pie;
Dining astern in a wrecked ghostly ship,
Humming herself quietly the company she’d keep.

Words and song she heard no more,
Gone were the people of her shore,
With the creaks of the graves rocking below,
She knew neither friend nor foe.

As whispers of wind caressed her ship,
She sang a song so soft to grip,
And as she hummed her wordless tune,
The wind revealed the silent moon

And the slivers of blackened light,
Rose the sea, and the ship took flight.