Little Boat

Banished to the shoal and kept at bay,
I have been moored here for years,
marking time by a beacon that reminds —
I see you, I see you, I see you.

Since I am no interloper,
I did not trespass the island —
a fortress deep and mighty.

How sad.

I only wanted to be its grass —
to inhabit inconspicuous
like a blanket draped softly as you sleep.

To be its trees with fingers rooted,
whispering cool breezes
like secrets shared as lovers.

To be its birds of play —
silly, swooping, singing —
its laughter, its music.

To be the tide that ebbs and flows,
a hand on your shoulder —
you are not alone.

But I remained uninvited,
ever-seduced by the mirage
created in distance and dreams.

How sad.

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Words ©2014, Jen Payne
IMAGE: Figure in a rowing boat by Emmanuel Zairis.

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