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A Solitary Sailor
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| a solitary sailor walks down a sandbank the dry sand crumbles 'neath his feet these sands, water they no longer drink paint cracking and peeling off of boats and a sink the sun upon the hot sand beats a solitary tree lies, where it fell, at the bottom of the bank an old beach house decays 'neath old dead oak trees dry sea oats rustle in strong gusts of wind a rotten shutter creaks in the cool breeze old dry sea weed crackles and blows in the breeze the sun falls towards the horizon the wind bemoans its lost friend, the sea the seaman on the tree trunk sits a quiet fog upon the sand creeps the burning sun on the horizon sets the solitary sailor thinks of lost love, and regrets the fog up to the log creeps the fog inside itself, the seaman, lets sun, to day's eyes is visible no longer the fog transforms into a wave wave washes from the shore with it disappears the solitary sailor the man, no longer sea's slave stars appear and the sand turns silver If you would like to know more about this poem please visit Random Musings. |
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| Webmistress: Architect Copyright © 2003 J. Michele Bodkin & Jumpbean Enterprises Last modified: |
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