A
Half
Cup
Of
This
Foreign
Tea
And
I see
Before
Me
The
Crude
Coast
Of
Solitude,
Rising
Like
A
Ship
Emerging
From
The
Sea,
Tall
Sails
Converging,
Urging
Me
To
Join
The
Ghostly
Crew.
Another
Few
Drinks,
And
The
Vessel
Sinks
Before
The
Whitened
Slope
Of
Much
Desired
Hope,
Quite
Clear,
And
Almost
Near
Enough
To
Touch.