Every day.
Some days I called for my family, but I gave that up long a go.
I sit down for dinner but the waiter never comes.
Sometimes I strain my ear for the band but I don't hear them play,
haven't for years.
My slippers wore out long ago and I can't slide my hand along the once smooth railings.
They are rusted and creatures sit crusted on them.
Sometimes I cry and sometimes I close my eyes and listen to the silence.
I don't feel the cold but I know it is cold,
I wish I felt it.
I walk the decks with bare feet, my nightgown grazing my legs.
I gave up on the idea long ago that I am alive...
that I survived.
But why am I the only one who walks the decks of this ship
so far underwater?
...
Ninety two years I have walked the decks, but I am peaceful now, it is my ship, my water. The rust and coral does not hurt my feet.
Maybe I am a part of the sea.
I don't remember being me....
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