Life raft bobbed,
A buoy
on calm water,
heat of morning sun expanding,
warming salty air
whispering “good morning”
to a solo voyager.
Heavy eyelids slowly open,
waking,
with dreams fading
with the feel
of usual sea mist.
What day this was,
And how many
there had been,
She could not be sure
Instinctively,
she glanced at her compass,
Nested in palm,
To find hand empty,
with no compass
at all.
She of Letters 