I always dreamed we might awaken

Some orange pastel morning

Entwined in that embrace

That knows no words.

But life is

An ocean, and too often

We are all but

Rowboats on the swells;

And time and tide and wind do

Carry us all of their own accord

To destinies apart.

I no longer dream of us

In the same old way

And though the images are yet sublime

Still, I have long since cut the

Cord that tied hope to expectations

In order that I might move on.

My boat is rudderless without you;

I have no compass to point me home;

I am drenched under iron skies and

Tossed by harrowing waves

And in that tempest

I am often less than brave

Still, I never doubt

It is the way it is

All supposed to be

10/19/2004

Posted on 10/19/2004
Copyright © 2024 Ken Harnisch