Search

Shore Leave

Updated: Aug 9




Sand or tobacco

hair


each with a golden smile


some with glitter in their eyes



I wander and wonder


shan't my wits fly

with a broken wing?



astern, I fear

day still sings the same


the graceful airs

fall on dark


despite the great beauties on this land



yes, they dwell within white lights


and talk the talk


how

I know not



pity remains


even for the very little

said and done


and it delivers only unrest.

6 views0 comments

Recent Posts

See All