IRC-Galleria

She was beautiful,
Iron lady on maiden voyage.
They called her the ship of dreams
and she was for she carried many filled with high hopes.

Mistakes, men make mistakes.
It is the way of life.
This time the prize was high,
tooo high.

He felt her hit,
he felt her mortal wounds,
her pain,
like they were his own.
They were.

He had spilled his blood,
he had given his sweat for her.
He had spent countless nights beside her,
trying to make her what she was.
And finally she was a dream forced into reality.
She was perfect.

Now he stood in her smoking room,
wishing he could turn back time.
She was dying.
He stood there, fixing the time of one of her clocks.
He did it gently, lovingly,
like closing eyes of a loved one.

Together they went down.
Together they are remembered.
Together. One wouldn't be without the other.