Monday, April 21, 2014

The Hull

When I've run myself into the ground
exhausted and hollow
I am the hull of an abandoned ship
battered by the relentless surf
rusting, creaking, pitted by salt spray
and sand, dilapidated, surrendered 
to driving rain and wind.

I seek refuge in
   a smile, a laugh

salvage and salve and sun.

No comments:

Post a Comment