Adrift

 Darkness of mottled reflection,  
as we drift.
One oar drying, becalmed without direction,  
heartbeats easing down,  
Setting, the suns shining penny.  
Below the horizon dips.  
Our slipping day. just tunes the ripples play.  
Black lace of landscape.  
on the edge of shoreline leaks,  
floats, on the bow of the old canoe,  
the blusher on her cheeks.  
Cracked varnish lifts on the laminated teak,  
lifting evenings clouding brow.  
Damping the ember rays,  
chambre  time, warmed like fine wine,  
 savour each moment.  
Pleasure, the depth below her sleek keel,  
hitchhiking on the tide of sunset.  
Each day the currents flow, reset what's best,  
rocking slowly in the eddies.  
Dimples raised by the first chill wind  
we gleaned the treasure,  
pointing the bow.  
 To the harbour lights, that glint.