Once upon a time, I smiled so broad, so regularly
My eyes big and bright and blue; I was only three
A tow-haired child who taught herself to read,
Who remembered everything; and now, with eyes of blue-grey-green
At forty-five, I’m honey-blonde; I hide and rarely beam
Lips curled more often distantly, in nostalgia and memory –

Old fisherman, carved so long ago, is it the fish that keep you smiling?

Today, the house I love is quiet, still and cold
No grandmother in the kitchen, as in days-of-old
No grandfather smoking cigarettes – so bad, we’d all been told
No ump-teen children visiting neighbors, all so bold;
To this land of salty air, I return, to heal from months of mold
To the land of my birth with skies of blue, beauties dreamt of, long-extolled
In northland years, while (unbeknownst) my heart, my mind were controlled
And I stayed away, a make-believe-love having sold me a bill of gold

Old fisherman, carved so long ago, is it the fish that keep you smiling?

Quiet. All is quiet, now; and still – except deep in my heart
Where songs still reach and rivet me; whence springs any of my art
Except flowing through my mind, where memories burst and smart
And yet, it is here, where I was born, I’ve hope of a fresh start
Here, where perhaps I may live, despite having to live apart
Dare I take it piece-by-piece? Choose love a la carte?

Old fisherman, carved so long ago, is it the fish that keep you smiling?