by, Samantha Syrnich TLC
Before the dawn,
with coffee warming my hands
and the sky still holding back its light,
I stumbled upon a treasure—
steel and sea intertwined,
a dream I never knew I was waiting for.
One of one.
The only Packard “Yacht” ever to sail the roads,
born in the mind of Louis Réard—
fashion’s daring mariner,
who once launched a bikini
and now, in my heart’s gallery,
launches a fantasy with wheels.
Henri Chapron shaped her hull,
polished her portholes,
dressed her with flags, cleats,
and a mast that once bore
bikini-clad laughter into summer air.
She christened the streets in champagne,
gliding past crowds
like a vessel without tides,
anchoring only in wonder.
Decades passed—
three captains of her course,
three hearts who understood
that rarity isn’t just a number,
it’s a story with an engine.
And now, in 2025,
she rises again from the quiet harbor of memory
to dock in my morning—
this unexpected port of joy.
If fate were kind,
I would stand beside her in the sun,
trace the curve of her prow,
inhale the salt that isn’t there but feels like it should be.
And if dreams dared go further,
I would take the helm,
let the wind knot my hair,
and sail the asphalt like open sea.
She reminds me—
I too carry a vessel in my mind,
a car not yet born,
my Steel Requiem.
A daily driver forged for my own command,
waiting for the day
when it will roll into the light
as proudly as she once did,
turning heads not for extravagance,
but for the soul stitched into its steel.
For now,
I cradle this discovery like a seashell,
listening to the echo of roads I haven’t driven,
and thanking the tide of chance
that carried her into my hands
before the sun had even risen.
The Phoenix Quill: Words Born of Fire, Inked in Truth 