Man Over-Board

Love is an ever-fleeting vessel.
Upon transient waves of time
Does’t heave and sway, without steady rhyme,
From ourselves, as we wrestle
It’s torrent after-wake in attempts
To hold-fast this golden chalice-
Which out of flows our joys and malice.

At times this vessel, Love, holds at bay,
As an enticement of things to come.
Yet, as things add to a perfect sum,
Winds o’ Chance waft our ship away.
Touch splintered, we were ever so close.
Weak and marred we feel, as distance
Is placed between our ship and hap stance.


But it is here, in watery tread,
That we must differentiate
Ourselves from others and again date.
With effort made, we’ll pull ahead
When we finally with full embrace,
Grasp Love -deep look into the eyes
Of truest soul mate- sail unknown skies.

by Robert L. Bixler III

Other poems of BIXLER III (69)

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