Little things can trigger precious memories...

Sailing

 

On the trailing edge of winter, grey light led me

To the cut, where alder and bowed willow stand

Reflected in the greys and browns of long waiting,

While winter burdened boats slack at their ropes.

 

In childhood days my father’s boat was tethered here,

Firm to the rusty ring upon the quay;

Mind's eye still sees her fine hull cut the water,

As she bestowed the grace of sail upon our lives.

 

The calms and storms, the fair and foul winds weathered her,

Tugged at the sheets and planks of our togetherness,

But now the ring is empty and as cold as winter,

Devoid of lives that once were firmly bound.

 

Let it rest, to hold those years, for here and now

The grandchild in my arms is smiling,

Caught within her smile I glimpse my long lost parents,

And once again those white sails fill with joy.

 

Heredity is an amazing thing: through our children we leave a lasting legacy.

Done