I've a boat
floating still, with the sheer force of my will.
The buckets of my hands
end the oars of my arms
fulcrum of broad shoulders
forged in the rain
forest...to so many
wet trees
Come,
under the umbrella of my hair
where even flood waters have no rise
.
.
.
.
2 comments:
a boat still, i like that
and love the last line!
lovely poem
It sounds a little like your style. Sometimes I can't help it. I tend to take on the style I'm reading a bit.
Thanks (*glower*)
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