The ship was anchored in the harbor
All ready for a trip,
Perhaps to France or Germany
It hoped it soon would slip

It was the greatest ship around
With decks of finest teak.
It was fast and strong and nimble
And it’s sails were at their peak.

Yet there it sat for days on end,
It had no crew or captain,
It rotted, growing barnacles until
A hurricane left it sunken.
 
This poem was previously published on my spiritual blog.