Report from Hobart Airport - 15km NE of Ralphs Bay
Temperature: 12°C (54°F)
The bay, the bay, the mighty bay,
giant cup of salty brine.
In steel depths the fish do sleep,
and in it’s heart it holds mine.
Across still waters I see a light,
is it real or trick of mind?
It flickers fickle in the night,
yet burns my eyes and makes them blind.
Is it a lamp of truth and hope,
to safely guide a sailor home?
Or ghost of twisted shipwreck past,
casting me adrift at sea alone?
Even with the strength and heart,
to swim against the dark tide bore,
how can one hope to honor love,
while banished to this far shore?
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