His Ship Was Wronged

His Ship Was Wronged We were on a ship in life, then one night we crashed. My heart sank. It was a bitter ending. To see her in the arms of a married man, leaving me demoralized. For I thought I had niche with her. A place in her heart. Some warmth for a future snowy day. I was wrong. I walked away. It hurts thinking of the innuendos and subtitles of love. More importantly it hurts to be fooled by her red herrings and later by her veiled personas. And her. I set sail. Like Columbus, I followed the stars, and new discoveries, to a new world. On a sunny day I arrived on the banks of poetic justice-or at least I thought at the time. I staked a claim with Poetry Soup. Enter the consummate seal bobbing a ball on his nose, free and happy. Along this journey here, I carried a poem that I wrote. It was about her and her aunt and the widening gap of differences. That was my first submission. I made pleas. Shook the trees of faith. Cut onions. From my heart I cried. It rained tears, the winds of mystery and destiny sweeping me off my feet. I look. My eyes water, over pool, I see her. She was on this site, too. Like storybook. Like an angel that followed me. Like, really how can this be, so surreal. In the throes of my mind, I right the ship and ending. 3/16/17-247