The lake quivers under morning’s first breath,
like a compass spun loose from its north.
A boat hums like whispered promises, unseen,
metal veins drawing us towards water’s edge.
There is something honest about magnets:
how they pull without asking permission,
how they are built for attachment, not release,
how they hum softly, a secret you can hold.
My father’s knuckles grip the rusted motor,
his silence thick as the silt beneath us.
He tells me love is like this: unseen forces,
pushing or pulling, though none can explain why.
What draws some hearts while others resist?
What keeps us tethered when we long to drift?
The boat sighs; the motor sparks to life again.
We are carried forward, though neither knows where.