In a place not known to man
never seen by mortals
to make a heart flit
just like the sun dancing across the horizon
warming the coldest of winter nights.
There she waits, frozen
of courage, Of fear, of-
He came in the middle of the night
like a dream, for she was sure
this is a land no man finds.
She wakes, he is still there.
He says he has sailed a thousand miles.
He is wet, disheveled.
She does not know what to think.
Sitting by a fire, he talks about dear Penelope.
She talks about the man whose touch she will never feel
She sees the fire flickering
or does she?
She was no Penelope, after all.
Don’t listen to the myths about Calypso and Odysseus.
There was no Calypso and Odysseus.
It was just Calypso, and the man who will never be hers.
There Calypso sits, still waiting.