Her warm teary breath fogs the mirror glass <br />as she tries to fix her face to pass <br />the coming frantic wave of hands. <br /> <br />Her grief stricken sighs stay inward facing <br />while his loud packing and pacing <br />takes on the brassy noise of bands <br /> <br />She fears his love, white crested and foaming, <br />will subside in the roaming, <br />or touch, of those far away lands <br /> <br />To windward of fate she tries to steer <br />in vain attempt to keep love near <br />and safe, from quick shifting sands <br /> <br />His feet now follow his mind's salted track <br />sirened to sea this tarry jack <br />till back on heaving deck he stands <br /> <br />As the mooring lines slip both turn to face <br />the growing, watery, lonely space <br />between their cold and empty hands <br /> <br />And at deep horn's blast she clears her throat <br />and prepares again to fill her moat <br />with tears, in hope that love withstands<br /><br />Sailing to windward<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/o-waves-3/
