Her pitching angles swept and scalloped
As oyster shells of yesterday –
So grand a vessel all but galloped
Out through the foggy rain the bay
Would drape and veil across the water.
A wife? A mother? Mistress-lover?
Rosario was all of these
(Though which of these could money please…?).
Upon Seattle’s ashen sorrows
I built her shingled eaves to shield
My joys – though glory would but yield
To tantalizing time’s tomorrows…
To think a mansion held such grief –
Rosario, you clever thief!


  1. Pretty poem, thanks.

  2. Angelico Nguyen, Esq., OP says

    So our O’Brien draws a face
    To catch the genius of the place.

  3. Churchill says

    Nice photo, thanks.

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