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
Copyright © Connie Pachecho | Year Posted 2017
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