A story-poem, of a lost sailor & love
The silhouettes of vessels on this golden stage of sea
pass mocking o'er the shore where I remain;
the joy of she whose husband comes today upon a ship
hits hard inside my heart, inflicting pain.
I picture thee determined, giving all to gain some ground
and led along by promises of earth
where roots are more than anchors dropped to weather passing storms;
where gentle lovers left behind give birth.
A year ago I watched your boat bend forward toward the sun;
the ripples since of time have traveled far.
Our infant girl is four months old today: I call her Hope
for she and I wish nightly on the stars.
Beneath the moon, we walk a rocky path to roughened docks;
each day we watch the spiteful sea for sails
and oftentimes, through mist, the men shout out at sight of land
but never you the drape of fog unveils.
I promise now to wait until my nurtured Hope has fled
and lines upon my face this life engraves
and if, sweet sailor, even then you cannot find your way,
I’ll come to you at last beneath the waves.