boat ~ National Poetry Month, Day 11

You were the boat and I was the shore
A gentle harbor from a bone splitting
storm
Dark wood edged into wet sand…

How I couldn’t wait to fill you
With secret treasure
With whispery sea songs and long forgotten maps
How I couldn’t
wait to take to the high rolling water
With you
We would cut through salty brine
Waves crashing over your bough
Birds dipping and racing us
Toward a
never-ending horizon
Laughing under the blackness of ocean nights
Rolling in frothy storms
Of our own
Tangled in slippery seaweed –
Inseparable, finally.

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