Classic Poem

I stand on the shore; you are in the boat.
Boat and shore, facing, are tied by parting sorrow.
Gradually you fade into the lake haze, grow small,
and I blame the wind filling your sail.
Under the pine I linger, unable to leave,
but the expanse of blue waves is empty, vast.
I've parted with you seven times in twenty years,
but no parting difficult as this to explain to myself.