No, is the answer to your musing,
I would not want it back the way it was.
We lay, our legs entwined.
Fingers reading the braille of each other’s face.
What is more pleasing to our eye?
We don’t care for alabaster finishes.
We don’t care for calm seas or following winds.
We were cut from sailcloth you and I.
When we met,
our skin was smooth.
A map of our travels was needed.
So we at once began to carve upon it.
I see the question, yet lingering in your eyes.
My lover, I adore this chart of lines upon your face.
A lifetime of laughter and of tears.
A treasure map by which to find each other.
What of when I have finally left this shore,
and you lose the fading memory of my face?
Worry not, close your eyes, listen
and you will find me waiting where the halyard taps the mast.
Drinkers with Writing Problems 
Thank you.
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