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