This could be the day. I could slip anchor and wander to the end of the jetty uncoil into the waters a vessel of lightmoonglade ride the freshets to sundown and when I am gone another stranger will find you coiled on the warm sand beached treasureand love you for the different stories your seas tell and half-finished blossoms growing out of my season trail behind with a comforting hum. But today is not the day. Today.
