The Why in the Waves

In another time, I had a little house,
sitting sweetly by a gentle sea,
and on the twisting porch I rocked,
just the wind, the water, and me.

And for a while, I stayed right there,
and watched the golden sun spin by,
until my eyes wandered to the waves
to see a figure cast awry.

Alone in the water, the stranger swam,
tossed by tides and swells and foam,
and maybe I could have gone to see,
but I just wondered, why was she alone?

Well, there I sat upon my porch,
rocking and watching and wondering why,
but I could not have lent a hand
or maybe I would also die.

As shadows stretched their aching arms
I fell into absent thought.
Is she swimming, swimming far,
or has she here been caught?

Why does she kick within the waves?
Why is she here, why would she leave?
Might she be running from a dream
or is there something left for her to believe?

It could have been mirages
that she was swimming for.
Promises made so long ago,
or maybe something more.

But never did I see her find
the current that might take her home.
Shadows stretched and curled and spilled,
but all the while, she swam alone.

Perhaps just dreams so well-sustained,
I kept watching from my old front door
and I saw her in the distant waves,
still swimming, swimming, for the shore.