By the Salt
Crusty eyes wake excited,
when mornings are usually slumbered.
Sun stretching, this early.
We leave Theresa with a wave,
You and I now,
a trip of bond.
The mist chills my face…
his dory crashing against the lap.
Posture held strong.
My imagination animated by the salt.
Few words spoken but enough was understood.
Cap to his brow, a grin in that cheek.
Surrogate father, my hero.