Wither Will She Go

Torn Between Two Lovers by Natalie Holland

The waters are flowing without a sound.
The wind washes over them with a lull.
The birds fly with their wings spread wide.
I stand alone.
Patiently.
Atop the pier waiting for my ship to appear.
Out of the distant smoke that I had
Last seen it in.

She is here at last.
I see her beautiful wood.
Burnished, gleaming in the sun.
But where is she headed?
To me or some other?
I do not know.
My mind seeks answers that
I may never get.
I do not want to be reproached.

But I shall not succumb.
I am the captain, though
Not always with my vessel.
Though strange it seems.
'Tis the story, stranger than fiction.
And I shall remain loyal.
Even though my girl
Be befuddled with anxiety.
With confusion.
Bewilderment.

An unknown old power of yore.
That only she knows of.
May draw her.
I cannot help, cannot stop.
Only stand
Upon this pier.
And wait
For my darling ship
To come back to me.