At The Crest of Sense

Oh!  You’re back earlier than I expected – carrying a bunch of pink tulips!  I’ll post this quickly.  We’re headed to the park for a walking date….

At The Crest Of Sense
I have long broken away
from these sorts of challenges.
Helplessly is my heart lost
and the golden flames of love
so far from my window’s view
don’t look quite so beckoning
as they did when billowing
sails were wet with saltiness
and cold against my cheek.
I lived in a smaller boat
and tread in a slower current
than the one now pulling me
–  and the moon shines brightly while
the sun burns warmer these days.


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