Zona

Mariner

I lose track of time because when I look out over the sea all I see is her face. I lose all point of reference until we round the southern tip of Africa and the sails are stretched drum tight with wind. The seas are capped white with the chop waves that make me feel as if there is no ship at all and I am lost adrift.

And in a sense I am lost because the Cape Of Good Hope has me wanting for my return voyage and my arrival to her arms again.

Madagascar awaits and my share of many months is a good one when we reach Spain again.

There is only the longing that carries a heavy price but I loved the sea before I loved the woman and I'm no good on land. The ox and the plow are not for me when there are the endless stars of the deep black sea and the coming and going of the sun on endless horizon.

Luck did not grant me a ship's captaincy but luck brought me the love that waits the mariner's return. Rounding the cape is half the journey done.