at first there was a sea captain and he could have been lonely but, surrounded by the great expanse of the ocean is one ever really alone?
and then, there was a bard arguably more of an orator (though a bard just the same) for he carried no instrument, no weapon but his words
and a pretty little dagger that the captain gave him tucked into his boot
it does not matter how long the bard took to get to the captain all that matters is he is there now
so bright with all his love the bard tucks daisies and dandelions into the captain’s long and windswept hair
and if the captain’s teeth are a little crooked and the bard has scars on wrist and arm and chest well, neither of them minds
because the bard will still make the captain breakfast and the captain will still share his flask of ***
and when the captain asks, voice rough with late nights and years of salty ocean brine, “is this a love story?”
the bard will only laugh, voice free of heartbreak, knowing the captain will always belong more to the ocean than he ever could to him, and say, “nay, my captain. it is naught but a jaunty little tune”