Gone the day as current pulled by the sun ebbs away
Fallen dreams sigh in the wake of the outgoing tide
The stutter of tattered rags in the mast seem to say:
Who shall sail under angry heavens to come alongside?
To shore up the leaking boards and rusting nails
While whitecap ghosts whip up between dark waves
Bygone passion groans in the rigging as the banshee wails
Sirens hum songs of hope for the sailor heart she saves
Oh one day, my mistress the sea she shall have me
But not before this senescent derelict finds its home
She’s more restless than I shifting her impatience under me
For the moment to take me when I’m beyond alone
And in one breath, she’ll wash straight through me.
© Copyright 2016 Celeste Neumann. All rights reserved.