The uncouth barbarian
not part of a hoard,
but alone.
A lone,
restless rogue
roaming the urban sea.
Waves of faces.
Shifting land-locked ships of steel
with ports of glass and wood.
Not anxious to weigh anchor,
but aching to be chained,
grounded;
to have a home.
But where that is,
is as fluid as water.
Here one minute,
but seeping imperceptibly
and inevitably
away.
Away to where?
Away from here.
Away.
Please Rate This Submission:
- 1
- 2
- 3
- 4
- 5
- Recent
Comments - Add a
Comment - Send
Feedback Send private anonymous feedback to the author (click here to post a public comment instead).
There are no recent comments - Click here to add a comment to this poem