In the swirl of dreams I get left behind, an orphan on a beach
staring out at a boat that has sailed on without me, beyond reach of voice to
recall, an end of ends I must accept,
take blame for, an abandoned hope time has already told me is a lost hope, too
distant even to know if she is there under the fluttering sails, or even
glanced back, or see how forlorn I’ve become, or even cares, though I know this
is a lost cause, the wind taking that small craft out of view, where it will
travel to wherever it needs, never needing me at all, the old tales unfurled in
my head, like a treasure map I can no longer read, even where the X-spot is. I
think I still hear her voice on the wind, all those sad songs she sang for
other people, yet I pretend she sang them for me. It is not that she is lost at
seat, but me, even though I have both feet planted firmly on solid ground. I am
a sailor without an oar, or a boat to paddle, and I must accept it.
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