I came across a boat, blue, white, and set on sand. Not washed away, but waiting, tethered by a rusted chain. Bit by bitter bit, not little by little, bit by broken bit, wanting washed away. Aground and chained, and waiting to mend, to rust, to bend, to snap, set free, and sail away .
So standing, thinking out to blue, better stormy sea than stood set sand, the longest chains will bend to snap, and broken boats will fix to float - I knew.
Neil Atkinson commented on Facebook:
ReplyDeleteI don't think you need my photo's. This is beautiful.
So standing, thinking out to blue, better stormy sea than stood set sand, the longest chains will bend to snap, and broken boats will fix to float - I knew.
ReplyDeleteAlmost Shakespeare.