the sailor

he had

the North Sea in his

eyes.

the wind

in his blown hair,

the silver

of stars,

the brine, the salt

of sailing,

gruffness

of songs in his voice,

of drink

and oft told lies.

he had more

stories to tell,

but

he couldn't go on,

couldn't

tell another without

thinking

about the one he loved,

the one

still in his heart,

locked in the pages

of his mind.