Disembark pre-storm

 The rock of the boats
queasy has a stomach for comedy 
The banks reinforced against the sea
No knowledge of the storm coming in

The disappearance of the waves underneath
The soup apple tide moves moored boats to ramming
Brackish bliss meets the incoming
The tide a tiger of violence and famine

Apple of my eye arrived no shark to snatch it
Full of panicking tourists being welcomed
Getting eaten alive by hungry mosquitos
Each one the size of your thumb

Then finally destiny arrived a tiny canal ship
Anticipating faces hovered over the front of the boat
Almost sea sick from the boats constant rock and tip
The aggressive budge and jump at the entrance of the river

Eternal love and mary flower held their place
Soon the storm would test their mooring
churning turbulant sky and sea so horny