DeepSeek V4 Pro vs GPT-5.5 for creative writing

The ferry, retired, tilts in tidal silt,  
its hull a patchwork of corroded gilt.  
The engine room, now open to the rain,  
lets daylight through the fractures in each chain.  
The ramp lies folded like a broken jaw,  
its cables frayed above the mud-caked floor.  
A cormorant folds up its black wing,  
and from the wheelhouse, rust falls in a ring.

The ferry leans beyond the cattail reed,  
Its windows filmed in iron-blooming red;  
No timetable remains, no call for speed,  
Just gullprints drying by the deckhouse shed;  
The estuary threads its silt with weed,  
And rain ticks softly on the captain’s bed;  
A flaking nameplate loosens like a seed,  
Beside a bucket catching rust-brown thread.