Tasting lime squatting on sun whitened sand
I viewed the contours of my anchored ship
making mental notes I carefully scanned
indigenous tribes as lime swarmed on my lips.
I waved a fruit high stuck to my sword tip
and laughed at horse like creatures in the sky
raging past in great white unbridled bands,
like bold corsairs of old on maiden trips,
I would barter for our water and supplies
or fighting die under the great white horse's eyes.
Captain Cur
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/corsairs-of-old/
