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The Sea
February 20, 2015
The Sea,
a swirling hole
of demise.
splintered masts,
ripped sails
and a crew
without the letter c in them,
the ship
sways, groans
and moans with
no land in sight
Days on end,
nothing is seen
but blue after blue
on this desolate ocean seascape,
but as the land draws near
hope is in sight,
Everyone, sees the lush forests
grey mountains
winding rivers.
The journey is over.
We all have journeys.
Tearing at our souls.
But shore, may be closer,
- than you think.
© Gretchen L., Edina, MN
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This poem is meant to be read aloud.