A Portal Through A Porthole

Upon a boat so very old
That had sailed the seven seas
Despite its rusting disease
It was now aged, crumbling, and cold
 
It finally came to a Titanic end
No crew, so no lifeboats were used
The boat had been long abused
Now washed ashore, without a friend
 
It sat on a sad, and lonely beach
Facing one of the seas, on which it once did float
But now in decay, this ramshackle boat
As the ocean became out of reach
 
So one day, i clambered aboard this dead life
And treading with great care
Upon many a rusted stair
As the chill air cut like a knife
 
Yet one cabin, still looked fresh
Although it was clean
There was no life to be seen
And it was the colour of cool flesh
 
A cool breeze blew through the large porthole
That still had a flaying curtain
Flapping in strands, as though uncertain
At the fate of its last residents' lost soul
 
I approached this circular space
And when i peered through
I imagined hearing the lost crew
Ghosts from another time, and place
 
by  Jemia