He stands

on the lip,

the ledge

of the tidal pool.

Early morning

clouds

abound,

waves licking

his face

and arms.

A strong back,

well-defined

lats.

He stands tall,

alone,

without clear

purpose

watching

the other 

swimmers

wading in the 

water.

Is anyone else 

drowning, 

while not being

immersed?

A wave crashes

overhead,

the salt water

covering 

his face.

How does one

move on,

after thirty-seven

years, of

holding the

same hand,

and listening

to that one melodic

voice saying…

I love you Darling.

~Lu