With gold silken hair waving like winter wheat on the prairie she stands in the wind waiting for her lovers arrival.
Eyes as blue as the coral waters of a South Pacific cove reflect like mother of pearl teardrops.
Long nights spent in a cold bed make her hasten to her door as the Harbor Master announces the ships in port.
The smell of salt water mixes with the taste of her tears as happiness spills from her eyes.
With the name of his ship her custom repeats as she races to the docks, her cheeks erupting in pastel shades of pink.
Fishermen ripe with the smell of their catch tip their caps and smile as her lithe form floats by.
Full of a womans desire for he that makes her complete, she hastens to his side.
The aroma of licorice from his pipe floats through the air.
She spots his grizzled beard framing a pearly white grin.
Her love barely contained, she jumps into his arms knocking his bag to the dock.
The pressing of lips and swapping of spit prove the love of a seafarers wife.
