I saw you slip moorings
and tilt seaward, sleek outline
ragged, your tissue-thin hardwood
rustling insubstantial as you gave up
your allegiance to Land.

I saw your gaze − high, exultant,
unmindful of swells slapping greedy at your sides.

And so my own voyage, in the deeps,
seeking the grace that exists, some say, in rupture.
But sometimes, if the light flicks off the sea
just right, I can see you still.
The you I knew, I mean. No disrespect
to your current vessel.