Oceans
Morning lays on the water
as if still pillowed in a dream,
then rises slowly into a gray,
overcast day.
You sit near the window
in the gentle light, adrift
on your thoughts taking you
to I know not where.
I sail mine over the rooms
horizon, lost.
Between us, whole oceans,
until love sets the compass
and we sail ourselves
back home again.
Copyright © Paul Willason | Year Posted 2023
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem.
Please
Login
to post a comment