The Irene c.

a poem in ryming quatrains

 

 

 

The Irene C,

 

Our motor yacht the Irene C.

No finer vessel puts to sea

 She’s seventy feet from stem to stern

the motor yacht for which we yearn

 

 Equipped with sails and engines two

You’d be amazed what speed she’ll do,

Her top speeds more than twenty knots

 Much faster than the other yachts

 

With two state rooms she is equipped.

 Sheer luxury the captain quipped.

Two smaller cabins for the crew

With far less space they must make do.

.
Our dream boat does not as yet exist

 It’s purely imaginary.

 It will one day we both insist.

When we have won the lottery

 

Without a dream what have you got,

 there’s nothing to look forward to.

 We share our dream about a yacht

dreams are much better dreamt by two.

10-Oct-08

 

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