Thursday, December 28, 2017

THE VOYAGE

on course
with compass true
yet my craft drifts
under thirsting sky
a gull sleeps
on the stern
reluctant to fly
in the still air
patiently i wait
half-delirious
from the blazing sun
then from the west
a whisper
upon your breath
my sails billow
the placid waters
now broken
by determined bow

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