Oceans morning moon winking, at
sea gate keys rusted pleasures,
opening loves barnacled secrets, clutched
by tentacles intertwined forever silted

Rocks carved by crashing waves,
shadowing moments before instants, of
loves memory building sand castles
in the rain guided by passing masts

What could be drove her into the surf;
it was never the man as he was,
but what her heart told her was waiting
beyond rip tides and winds that didn’t care

Morning after’s had to wait for dawn,
nights alone knew that mornings alone
felt the same; but the hold of a ship at sea
at least carried her memory with him

Birds picking the lustfully heaving waters
at midnight, dodgy flowers in a stormy garden,
she could only wonder about such things,
while he could only wait for the night before

The wash behind drew life near, expectant;
she could feel the life in his wake, including
her own; but he knew what she could not
believe; this bow longs for her port