DescriptionA poem of a story of a love of the past.
MessageIt's Greek to me.
ImageWRTN
We were sailors once, moving with the tide,Measuring time in the hush between waves,Watching the sky shift, hands brushing in the dark,The salt of the ocean settling on our skin.
The wind carried us forward.Your voice was steady, a compass I trusted.Nights blurred into mornings,The horizon pulling us somewhere unseen.
But the sea is never still.Currents twist, storms rise without warning.One moment, your hand in mine—The next, the space between us widening.
I called your name into the wind.The wind had no answer.Only the sound of the waves,Only the weight of what was left behind.
Now I drift, searching for echoes,For footprints in water, for a shape in the mist.No shore, no stars to follow,Only the endless motion of memory.
And if, through some quiet shift, you return with the tide,I will not ask where you have been.I will only move toward you.As if I had never stopped.
The wind carried us forward.Your voice was steady, a compass I trusted.Nights blurred into mornings,The horizon pulling us somewhere unseen.
But the sea is never still.Currents twist, storms rise without warning.One moment, your hand in mine—The next, the space between us widening.
I called your name into the wind.The wind had no answer.Only the sound of the waves,Only the weight of what was left behind.
Now I drift, searching for echoes,For footprints in water, for a shape in the mist.No shore, no stars to follow,Only the endless motion of memory.
And if, through some quiet shift, you return with the tide,I will not ask where you have been.I will only move toward you.As if I had never stopped.
