byAlgonquin Twit©

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Night stills in silent breath
becalmed the ocean sleeps
its restless curves motionless
true sailing is dead
on windless, damp horizons
as distant clouds stir hope
for movement, a response
where fingertips dare the water,
ripple the surface in anticipation
waiting for sight, eyes
alight with rhythm, turning,
wanting, whispering -- "Yes."


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byAlgonquin Twit© 3 comments/ 5208 views/ 1 favorites

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