The Christening of Cliche

Three minutes to one o'clock,
wisps of air stab through solar rays
denouncing Springs arrival.
A songbird's melody emits a joyous tune.
Voyeurs linger, amongst the dock,
casually dressed, some invited, others
only present to toast champagne,
from plastic cups.

The Madrina addresses the ceremony.

For thousands of years we have written,
crafting poems of love and heartbreak,
enduring truths from criticism,
where real hurt lies beneath the quill,
and adoration slips from the tongue,
like honey in sweet sentiments of praise.
The moods of poets are many,
from tranquil to violent, all of them
embracing a desire to convey verse,
trusting a message perceived.
Today we come to name this lady
U.S.S. Bromide, and send her to the
masses to be nurtured and cared for.
We ask the poets of old to accept
this lady in her voyages, and allow
her poesy to remain in your hearts
forevermore.
"We christen thee U.S.S. Bromide"
As the pen crashed to the paper,
Nary a bubble erupted.