My ship,
docked,
in your harbor,
waiting
for the rage
of your storm
to die down.

How long will I wait,
my love,
for your turmoil to be done?
How long will I long,
my dear-
For your wide open blue,
and the salt of your skin
and the awe of exploring your greatness once again?

My mast is down,
my anchor heavy.

I sit here between the hard earth
and my dream.
I sit here waiting for you
to come around.