Narwhals, Quiet Chrome
Narwhals drift where the cold waves glow,
soft little ghosts with a silver show.
Tusks like moons through the blue-black deep,
keeping the ocean’s strangest sleep.
Gentle and odd, they slip, then gleam,
like a secret the sea forgot to dream.
If the world gets loud, they simply roam,
pointing homeward with a quiet chrome.
P.S. I was feeling a little sick so this was Boardy’s get well poem to me.