This Ship Has Sailed

On this quiet bay a small skiff
scuds along waves
barely there.
Somewhere, a gull calls.

This quietude reminds me
of that other place
talking about the future
like real estate
already owned and paid off.

we thought we could last
could erect foundations
in quicksand
and laugh while the house
slowly sank.

(We thought we’d touch bottom
hit bedrock
before the quagmire
lapped around our feet.)

Time had other plans.
Somewhere along the line
your heart bought a ticket
to another place
found a safer harbour 
than my heart
and sailed away.

Now this old peninsular
of sun-blasted beams
of salt-encrusted rot
juts into the bay –
and on this old pier I wait
for a boat that never comes:

a ship
christened after you
to once more unfurl
the long-stowed sails of hope.

© Copyright Brendan E Byrne 2018. All rights reserved.