I spent monday
just walking through town
searching for solace
but none could be found

the wind whistled arias
clarity true
I dreamt of a vessel..
she turned into you

my eyes coarse from labours
blinking through mists
a tangle of conflicts
my hands sleeping fists

I spent tuesday morning
down at the yard
searching for magic
for some fated card

it's then that I saw you
pitched in the muck
neglected by everyone's
concept of luck

I spent all of wednesday
smoothing the deck
washing salt tears
from the grooves
of your neck

I ate in your wheelhouse
I slept in your aft
people that knew me
considered me daft

I watched thursday morning
select it's new hue
it mirrored your essence
but only I knew

the grief of good friday
rose with the tide
that day in the chapel
when you were my bride

so I bury my rage
in the virtue of toil
in the place
where you float
'tween the sea and the soil


(for Vanessa)