Old man sits in the air-
the wind's firing the life at him
while the young girl sits in grief,
The old man really does know
and understand her sorrow
but she doesn't understand why he gets her.
They sit in agreement-
and remind eachother of a loved one.
To he- she's a mirror image of his daughter-
To her- she's the essence of her mother
The wind continues to blow and the boat sails along the sea
while both the man and girl
realize what life's made up to be.
And though his worry has oppressed all else
he feels at ease seeing the girl in his final hours,
the first in years,
the first since 98,
when her parents' lives were taken by a drunk,
those nights of fighting now only selfish,
but as she examines his arm, veiny and shaking
he reaches out and grabs it, a clench of confirmation
that the time is right
and then the ship went down,
it went down that very night.