A Farewell
By Glen Martin Fitch
The ship boards creak. The rigging sings
And down my cheeks stream mist and spray.
My breath grows fast. My knees feel weak.
As fate speeds me away.
Her eyes, her lips become her face.
The white form I just held, a glow.
The town recedes. The sky looms vast,
As ranks of white-caps grow.
What once was green now fades to blue.
Above the shifting rows of gray.
My heels lift up. The hilltops sink.
I’m bound away, away
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