No Other Will Do For Me Poem by Mark Heathcote

Tears are making clearings in the woods.
A forest of tissues is laid to waste.
There are clouds like two ships waiting.
But now, one is steering speedily away.
While the other must stay and yearn empty, sails lift again.
But all I know is that I must one day dry my eyes.
Sow a new tomorrow and plough
a new course where nothing but hungry gulls cry.
Where nothing but crows and sparrow hawks flock, flying to feed.
Oh, batten down the hatches. There are only enough ravenous reserves left for me.
I no longer want to voyage this stormy, restless sea.
Now that I have sailed with you, no one else will do for me.