all the summer boats

a snapshot from my iPhone

all the summer boats
have left the beach,
all but one remains.

where do they weather their winter, 
i wonder?

where do they go
when all the guests have gone,
and no one’s left to entertain?

do they head South, 
in search for warmer climes,
for others to enjoy their liquid ride
on waters untouched by Northern chill?

or do they languish 
on sides of driveways,
in backyards and empty lots,
covered with tarps, 
dirty and forgotten,
dusty and ignored?

i imagine they must recall 
fondly (and yet with remorse), 
the day they first came home, 
when promises were made
of daily sails, of weekend trips,
and monthlong adventures 
of carrying the wind out to sea.

alas, how quickly their love was lost. 
how soon the summer memories wane,
how quickly their intrigue recedes
as the twinkle of August eyes 
grow weary and dim,
as Fall arrives, 
and school is let back in.

"you, the one with the bleached and dull, red hull,
what of your owner, and where’s your first mate?
have they no paint to freshen your faded face?”,
a seasoned sailor asks,
seeing the landlocked vessel
deserted and in distress.

“i only saw him once last year,
but he said he’d be right back,"
the abandoned craft replies.

a boat with no captain,
a ship without a sail,
a lost love, 
with no one to any longer care.
a talent without desire,
a dream with no hope,
a dog without a home.

all potential lost.
a forgotten toy brings no joy.