The Sound

We have never been here
drifting on the tide
a box full of memories
revealed one shell at a time

You never asked to be
repatriated with the sea
we assumed that this
is what you wanted

Never one to have
much of a plan
I have followed in your footsteps
and one day will be repatriated

Salt flows in the blood of a sailor
and I would add to that in the tears
that drop one after the other

We drift for many moments
inwardly cast, internal tides
revealing pictures, tiny movies
in, on, and around the water

When the box is empty
we fire up the engine
leaving you and us to an uncertain
past and a future even less clear

Alexander Milne