The Anchorage
Sailing far beyond the fading shore,
Dusk till dawn, laboring at the oar,
Ears acquainted with the ropes and cleats,
While the mind races where the ocean meets.
Wounds of the heart evade the brush,
Loneliness weeping in the evening hush,
Smiles are buried deep and out of sight,
As hands grow frozen in the dead of night.
Dream the restless waters bloom in rows,
Where ocean winds wrap like a warm embrace,
Drift on the vessel, letting worries go,
And find your harbor in this quiet place.
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