First Mates Asunder

An occasional poem finds its way from my fingertips and, though I meticulously guard the junk stashed atop my night stand, my written material usually is not so safely watched. Happy fingers today turned up one such leaf, penned in 1993 on the occasion of my brother's death. Before I return it to its hiding place, I should share it here.

First Mates Asunder

Bounding high above the waves
    I watched another sail
    at distance far. It seemed to be
Diminished - growing pale.

Its timbers once were lofty rigged;
    It leaned to any wind;
    Never mindful at which port
Its course would haven find.

Oft I've wondered why my ship,
    Tho crafted like in name,
    Found not her courses through the years,
Nor anchor set the same.

But, ships of sea do rarely share
    Like hold beneath the breeze.
    Though like in manner they are launched,
They sail on different seas.

©1993 Donn Coon,
(For brother, Robert - April 1941, September 1993)