Night Ferry to Cherbourg

Lit only by Indistinct pricks of bobbing light
the Styx like water whispers of a dark crossing to come.
I board the ferry like a spirit
gliding through its many bars, where
bonhomie orders just one more nightcap until
it slips down it’s chair into sleep,
mumbling to itself face down on a table.

I too want to be cast adrift intro slumber but
with each dip and fall of the boat
I feel like I am alone and flailing
in troubled waters.
Like a solitary sailor or channel swimmer
I’m valiantly pushing forward forcing
a tired body to execute stroke after stroke,
leaving me breathless but
knowing that this ceaseless labour
is bringing me closer to you my love.