THE CAPTAIN'S CUP
Not
looking down,
he holds it...
eyes fastened far away.
Sunlight playing on the facets of his face.
Little
drops of seaspray
highlight here,
linger there,
Accenting wetly with their salty grace.
The
cup? It seems an
afterthought....
held in heedless hand...
Attention focused on some distant scene.
And,
yet, it brings
into my mind
remembrance,
Unfaded, through the years still keen,
Of
lover-spoken lines
from yearning heart
lifted with expressive sigh
In some long-gone, flower-laden night.
And...were
that I
the rim upon that cup
that I might lifted be
And rest against those lips
So
Captain, damp
and dripping wet,
would raise me up
And bless me with his sips.
