By All Accounts

I count them all The sea of fishes Wide mouthed men Who tell me tales Of how they would be The one and only Should I cast my line And draw them to my beachhead But none so pretty As the one who got away The catch and release Of setting him free To deeper blue seas To swim beyond my eyes focus Into the distant dimming horizon The waves washing over my head I count the days til summer's surrender Remembering last year was so much hotter Much brighter, because of the tidal surge of him By all accounts I am left with my sandy feet Standing alone on the Long Island shores An island of longing for what was back then My tanned shoulders turned against the sunset As you turned away from my touch I count the molasses minutes White lying to myself that I am just fine As I finger the fine white sand Slipping through my grasp... And I remember that Autumn holds memories also And prepare for more missing of you.