When the Bow Breaks

I watched from my porch swing
as the men prepared their castles of salt
where they would dwell in the sea.
"Well, I once had a whole heart,
a made out of gold heart,
but half of it sank five miles deep."
That's the story Grandma told me
before she would show me
the pictures that would help her describe.
The men were kissing their children and wives goodbye
and setting sail toward the sun for the final time.
She says that she still sees him
and, God, how much I would've loved him.
Oh, how she still loves him the same.
Then, she closes her eyes and sends up a prayer
to be back with him again someday.
Her tears form a river that now flows at our feet.
Giving in to her sadness, we are carried away.
So, here we float in an ocean and his ghost haunts our souls.
I see the ship going down in her eyes.
We're dragged far beneath the surface,
where his love ceased to be,
and where we'll drown re-living her memories.
And when the bow breaks, her heart breaks, her water the same.
My mother is kicking harder, now. Who'll give her a name and save me?
"Save us."
Save us.
End.