Is That The Sea, My Love? / Fleishman

 Is That The Sea, My Love?

By Maxfield Fleishman

Is that the sea, my love?

That yonder sheet of metal blue 

And white which glimmers on the crest?

Does that mean, my love, that sand

Will warm my heart and hands again?

Say it's so, my dearest love,

That I may don the frilly waves

Which in my youth bespeckled me.

We left the waves...

Why did we scorn them?

Some earnest dream I used to have which 

Left no room for waves, nor froth, nor sand 

To warm my heart and hands, 

Dreams like these,

You had them too, my love. 

They swept us both away

Into another land where waves could reach us not,

Where earth grows hot and green recedes

Away from desert sands. 

You promised me, and I did you,

That when we could we'd recompense

This lack of sea,

"Make for the coast! With haste!" we said.

But years progressed in land-locked pride,

Forever barred, we felt, from smelling

Salty air and fanning waves. 

A life we lived, so far away

From Neptune's briny post. 

Now, my sweetest friend, we see the coast, 

The lemon-colored sea which raised us.

I have your photo close, 

Just resting on the dashboard here,

So you can see the waves, and me. 

Do you remember how you smiled in your bed?

Beyond the beeps of your machines, 

And the lights which kept you living,

You saw, you heard the crashing waves,

The metal blue and wine-dark fetters,

Swirling cold and boiling waves

That once you knew so well. 

Now we're at the sea, my love,

I hope it was worth the wait.