by Andrew C. Admire
I see an old sailboat sitting in the garage,
Unused for years.
With only the hope of wind to bring new life,
I take it to the river,
And pull the sail up to catch the wind.
But, like love, though all around me,
It doesn't fill the sail.
I start the motor,
The propeller turns, cutting the water;
As false love has cut into me.