Of Ships and Dreams

Just Me

sands ease beneath my wave brushed prancing toes,
scarcely an anchor for hopes and dreams;
but here the clear stream meets the turgid sea –
as do I.

a wounded bird or puff of thistle down
winks and flutters past strained vision;
but distance has no reins on horizon,
nor do I.

A ship! a sailing ship! heaving outward,
billowing clouds for luft and prayer;
but guided by tiller of another’s claim,
as am I.

I gift a sigh upon the scented breeze,
a faerie song – a mystic chant perhaps;
that my presence will affect its course –
as will I.

faucon