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savor the salt, as if the first time
tracing the lines upon your weathered face
reaching the tongue of solemn affirmation,
a found faith, reciting a seaman’s grace
set sight on waves, as if the first time
swelling, against a battered stern
hoist a sail amid the bash of rolling thunder
while praying calm not long return
sense the wind, as if the first time
unhinged, unending, and blessed forever free
giving ground to the years you took the helm
of ships traversing the mighty sea
heed the call, as if the first time
you passively walked along her shore
taking oath to be her eternal lover –
that ageless maid known only in sailor’s lore
copyrighted 2009