By The Southern Shore Poem by Susan Lacovara

She turned to face the falling rain
Mass of black tresses thrown
To the wind
She wiped her eyes
As if to wipe the slate clean
Periscope vision focused on
The 'What comes next? '

Aging days, chasing
Caught her, unaware
While strolling a salted slippery pier
Gulls overhead,
Overhearing every hushed wish
She made
While blowing late season dandelions away

She loved him, once
On that southern shore
And if he, no more, to love her still
The sea foam continued to cling to her legs
Even while he no longer did

She captained her own ship
Prepared to set sail again
Against the current and current forecast
Of swells and rising tides
She checked for life jackets
And flares, if be needed,
Should her ship go down
In capsized confusion

He stood, atop the broken boardwalk planks
Watchful, as a lighthouse,
Seemingly stretched just as high
High enough to keep his head in the clouds
And tower over the timid temptress
Spying the steps of the wandering waterlily lady
He longed to scoop her in his net
This fragile creature
Stranded on the southern shore
No more, he thought, no more

She touched his heart with faraway eyes
Never intended for his to meet
Ironing out the insecurities she worn
Her fingers flattened the fabric
Blowing in the breathtaking breeze
He held his hand out, an offering,
To gift her... step up,
Onto solid ground
Safe footing near the boat basin
Of 'The Barely There, Brokenhearted'

The moment of hesitation, lost,
In the lashes of the crashes
Of waves rolling in
She heard nothing, but the voice of his silent stare
Till the seagull's song
Their heart wrenching cry, all too familiar
Brought her back to the breakers
And his bending down glance
That made her feel tiny, though perfectly tanned

He was handsomely tall, tender, in touch
With a craggy tone, as salted as the sea
And he somehow knew she had a broken wing
His beacon light fell on her heavy shoulders
His hello brushed her hair, a welcomed gale
Hardly having time to catch her breath,
Her hand attached to his, with a gentle pull
Placing her near him, on the splinter wood walkway
That could possibly lead her to a bouy beyond
The southern shore sands
that slipped through her hands
His frame an umbrella against the storm
Freeing her from the lifeboat loneliness
With the toss of a buoyant 'I've navigated this ocean'
She smiled in the rhythm of the pelting rain