Robert Youngs Pelgrift, Jr.
THE SEA PATH
I know you left me just minutes ago;
the shuddering, thudding ferry backed around,
and dredging icy froth from deep below,
laid a glass ribbon across the ruffled sound.
It's been just minutes, yet it seems to me
hours that I've sat here since you left this dock,
for this paralyzing feeling seems to be
a drag on the very movement of the clock.
For a moment, you were gone but still here,
your presence right here as I saw you last;
now, as your sea path lengthens from this pier,
for me, you’re carried back into the past.
And echoes of your leaving send a tide
that seems to rock the land and then subside.
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