Beneath the tumultuous froth

Through which I sailed.

As I hoisted my heavy cloth

I swear I could see the glistening scale.

Of a maiden on the prowl

In the great old, cerulean sea.

And from the frigid, icy, bowels

Did she long stare back at me.

Her face, though fair

Reflected in her piercing gaze.

An expression I’d compare

To that wondrous, prussian maze.

I watched in quiet unrest

As she dove further down.

Disappearing below the breaking crest

And I then too, pushed through the sound.