The tawny hair, the turning cheek,
the ears;
the tall young stranger, innocent
of guile;
I knew that I could fold away my
fears
the moment that he offered her
that smile
that kissed, that clothed, that
curled up in her hand,
that lay contented while the
dancing tide,
the pulling moon, made patterns on
the sand,
pressed patience in the channels
of his pride;
her soft grey eyes like gulls
circled his love,
dipping at last to ride his
rocking heart;
the change-wind trade indifferent
above,
new bearings set for me, a course
apart.
My fears are folded, all is well,
I know,
but oh! how hard it is to let her
go.
(January,
1988)
