The Lone Seaman

where is you weight
The heavy hand of dew upon me
Where are your wet splints
That wash away nightmares
and encircles my bed in the morning
Where are your brine kisses
Every now then
The sharp voice on my tongue

You left not by force
The very hands of survival
Pulled me away
The seaweed, the Salmon
The rum and crabs
All crumbs of memory
In the plate of time

But I’d unshackle the floodgates
Of my heart, moments
Where the torrents sang
The song of home. Where we’re one


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