Water Lily (Second Poem).

Girl, hair kept long,
flowing like a river
over the landscape of her body
down to the narrow ankles,
tensed, just like a dancer`s
pirouetting en pointe.

Eyes, equatorial blue with longing,
peering sadly at the grey shore
of her northern island.
Eyes, sad oceans, deep with thwarted love.

I watch her as she walks slowly towards me,
stepping over nets spread on the quay
like an expert sailor. The rucksack on her shoulder
stashed tight with prized possessions.

Love? I have searched for love for half a lifetime,
sailing from island to mainland, from continent to
atolls,
but only finding harbours packed with strangers,
and visitors rarely welcomed.
But this morning our hands touched in the post office
doorway
as we passed each other to and from the counter,
and I knew at once my life had locked into focus,
transformed without a word, a whispered note of
warning.

Girl, my boat is ready, ship shape to sail back southward,
provisions packed below, the sail made new and furled.
The crossing can be tough, icy cold and squally,
but with two to hold the course we should get through.


Trevor John Karsavin Potter.
February 13th. 2017. (From a poem started November 20th. 2016).

Happy St. Valentine`s Day everyone.