NO MAN’S LAND
This story is a true one,
a tragedy of sorts
about the love a girl has for a ship,
one that would never come to port.
Every day she stood upon his shore,
her parasol in hand
and wave, she would, to no avail
his ship would never come to land.
Days turned into weeks
turned into months, turned into years,
though close he came
from time to time
no sign of dropping anchor did appear.
If he would grant her charter
on the next wave out she’d ride,
but retreat his sail he always does
to hide behind low tides– comfortable
in his decanted list, her drydock he won’t abide.
If she could walk on water, she would
to him make haste and take him
in her loving port and in her warm embrace
but since she can’t she stands and waits,
her parasol in hand
A broken-hearted wreckage
on the shores of no man’s land.
