Sing a Song of the Sea

At my first sight of him, I saw such a benevolence, the Cuban youth with mocha skin and bright root beer-brown eyes, he only loved me, I, a frivolous woman. He was nineteen, I was twenty-two, his steadfast devotion of heart, my UK heritage fire. How I wish I could send him a message through the timelessness of poetry, breathed into his dreams by an angel, to say, when I think of us forty-three years ago, I sing a song of the sea. We were U.S. Navy recruits in the challenges of boot camp. He thought my plain looks were beauteous, he, so serene and gentlemanly, what a man should be. He gave me an engagement ring, when we graduated that hot Orlando, Florida day, the loving man too good for me, how I hurt his truest of cherish, he only loved me, the woman of a thousand fragments. Not long after he went out to the vasty romantic sea, I wrote him ending our engagement, I never saw him again. The years a flash of decades, that brought my sorrow in tidal waves. When I set sail in my elder's nocturnal sleeping sojourns, I think of him as my memories soar as if an oceanic bird, and awake- to sing a song of the sea. ~