by Janet Adams
3:42 a.m.
Shells line the peeling casement
Where he waits in dreamless sleep.
Battered seams of wood
Hold memories
Of distant oceans
That Echo
Into delicate
Swirls
Of
Sand-etched
Pink
Sun-bleached
Ivory
Chalices.
In the waning dark
Echoes that whisper
With the wisdom
Of Time
To the fragile
Limbs clinging
To her gently
Rocking buoy –
Let go, let go let go —
The sea will carry you
Safely to my
Star stroked shore.
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