Before the sailboat came in - all the way in where the faces
could match eye colors and hats -
i thought -who would live there and play like that out there
in the sea. the ocean, lake - the blue green brown of
back and forth -
who could be out there that long. sun down real hard
bouncing off the water it hurts you think -
to be that perfect in the motion -
the real quiet times
when you are there and nothing else.
Before the sailboat came in - all the way in there were two i think -
it looked like two - and i swept up my head into a beautiful woman with dark brown eyes
and a man that adored her - painfully in love - dressed in sail away clothes
with wine in glasses that were chilled/chilled
to the bone. I thought i would never live that way... i will never
be on a sailboat in white clothes really out there
on some random sunday afternoon.
i bet there are lobsters.
i bet there is music.
Before the sailboat came in i was sure i knew who would step in white sneakers
to the very dry flat of the dock -
but instead an old man appeared with weather beaten skin
and brownish pants. he did not smile the sea ocean free flowing wave smile
that comes from damp shoes, salty air.
he looked sea glass through me telescope eyes to the wind.
THE AUTHOR
Amy Soricelli has been writing poetry for a long time. Published in Grub Street, Picuyune Press, Long Island Quarterly, CrossBronx, Poetrybay.com - and was happily accepted into a Master Poetry workshop with Billy Collins. She is happily married with a 19 year old daughter and a cat named Henry James. She is a native New Yorker.