Sunday, December 30, 2012

he drifts


and so
he drifts
from my shore,
the line knotted
to the dock
has been undone.

his outline
harder to see,
his mirth
harder to feel;

and his touch
all together lost.

my harbour
experienced some high
seas
before the captain
woke up from
his dreaming

with a start

planning a speedy
return
to his familiar
berth.


Beth McCarthy Marks
2005

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