There are sails in an upstairs window
Whose cloth never tasted the spray
Of an ocean long lost in memory
And a happier, faraway day
She sailed in his heart to the sunset
Where the end of their world fell from sight
At ninety degrees to his life-line.
And down to a watery night
He waits now, his captain’s badge polished
His blazer emblazoned with gold
For the tide that will take him night sailing
And allow the small sails to unfold.
©Stephen Tanham 2020