By Rachel Dick, 2nd Year

Object No. 89 'Titanic' Launch Ticket
Ulster Folk & Transport Museum

Each day,

Each minute,

Each second,

I think of her.


Her golden hair,

Blowing in the wind,

Her bright blue eyes,

Twinkling in the sun,

Is not the picture I see.


Instead I see her,

Lying on the sea bed,

Dead and alone.


I see here last moments,




With all hope gone,

As the Titanic sunk,

Deep beneath the sea.


Over one thousand dead,

Echoes across the world,

But the death of my love,

Screams from above,

As all I have left is an image,

To remind me,

That my love,

My life,

My heart,

Is gone.

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