There are a thousand crossing ships where we meet, In a mist of what, a fog of when, a descending dark of how. Moments brief, flickering on the seafloor, saltwater-sweet Yet we slip under, rudderless, a love that this life won’t allow. In one passing craft, you’d work the night shift and I the day. Every sunrise you’d leave at six and I’d start at eight,  I’d craft the effigy of you, through the words that others say About you, then you’d wake up early and I'd sleep in late. In another, you make coffee. I become the type of person With a ‘usual’. You learn it, I learn your name. We get on great, A chilled morning, a blue biro, a number on a napkin later, It’s time, and a friend of a friend tells you I’ve moved away. We battle one another, we argue, we misunderstand, We never learn what we know. The waves take us, we go. Yet, this time, red sky at night. I close a fist. Reaching up, I grasp land,  And all with the simple, quiet, wind-weaving determination of ‘hello’.