it is dreary here on the port today
the cold is overwhelming, the winds cutting like a dagger through flesh.
while i cling to my coat, begging for any small reprieve,
i'm reminded of warmth from another, encountered by the ships.
it is always a wonder, when i am spoken to, as the time spent aloft is lonesome, and i've long since lost the charm of conversation.
nary one for speaking, therefore deft to hearken,
a weaved tale of pained loving anguish,
of a lover set avast on the seas,
without the faintest of thought,
of any but he, the crew, and the sea.
what a surprising thing to me, i'd admit,
as the rarity of the beauty before me,
laid plainly to see, was greater then any upon the sea,
or down within it's endless depths.
the smile there, amidst the dried lines of salted cheeks,
warmed us both through the wearying cold as we stood,
laughing at the thought of one's beauty, seen and beheld,
as opposed to the endless, mythic beauty of a sea, unseen.
