This is a little poem I wrote while Becca was in Italy last summer. . . It’s rather melodramatic and sentimental, but I’m quite proud of how consistent the rhyming is:
The summons is echoing across the waves,
To the one who slays and the one who saves.
The voice calls low, and thou must go;
The song of farewell hath found me.
I smell the tang of gulls and brine,
I feel thy hand slip out of mine.
Blow me a kiss, through the mist;
I know that it shall find me.
The black oars dip in the green waves fast,
I know our parting hath come at last.
Watching the foam, I’ll stand alone;
‘Till you come back to find me.