Vision of Diamonds

By John Petersen

For now things are quiet, aboard this warship I call home,

taps have been called, can’t sleep, need to walk, her empty passageways I’ll roam.

I’ll pass the occasional watchstander, tired eyes looking back at mine,

I’ll stay to the right of the tape on the deck, as the other side is waxed to a shine.

I’ll swing by the mess decks, it’s time for midrats, you know,

have some of whatever was left from dinner, some bug juice, or a cup o’ joe.

Doors and hatches normally open, bleeding fluorescent light,

are all closed now, their occupants functions wrapped up and done for the night.

The word was passed over the 1MC, at taps it’s Darken Ship, lights out,

The smoking lamp is out you’ve been told, yet the desire shows its clout.

The seas are calm, hardly any roll or pitch to be felt, not one swell,

as this mighty vessel steams along at a stately two-thirds bell.

As quietly as I can, I make my way to the fantail, knowing the chance I take,

any noise made at this time of night resounds to others who may awake.

I’ll finally get my smoke, yet as my eyes adjust, I’m taken aback, I fear,

‘Tis a moonless night, no clouds, with the sea as smooth as a mirror.

It’s truly breathtaking, enveloping, gives one a feeling of peace and inner glow,

no glare of city lights to block out the beauty of this eternal show.

An innumerable number of diamonds dotting the pitch black sky,

Absolutely no end to them no matter how hard you look and try.

There is no horizon, the sea as calm as she is, like glass,

millions of diamonds reflected, truly doubled en mass.

As I gaze upon this sight, a work of art only one can bring to light,

I bow my head in short prayer, to give thanks for this beautiful night.

Forgetting the smoke, I quietly sneak back inside,

passing that tired watchstander, he knows yet doesn’t care, the secret he’ll hide.

I’ll crawl into my rack, pull the curtain and drift off to sleep,

with the vision of diamonds, each one priceless and forever I’ll keep.