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
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