Flailing waves on wailing caves and open sores
Drunken moats of sunken boats and stevedores
Fearsome crocks of bird flocks and old lore’s
Silence amidst the deafening roars…
Rending seas, bending trees and blowing spores
Lark flights through dark nights on stormy shores
In the cold box of old clocks and undone chores
Time keeps waiting to settle scores…
Moans hush and foams rush like greasy whores
The sea settles in tea kettles and gently snores
In rude knocks on wood docks and old doors
Night comes crawling on all fours….
Am I this moment’s or forevermore’s?
Do I let go of oars?
No comments:
Post a Comment