The Boat Ride
The boat tilts back and leaves a wake-
Our minds crumbs scatter across blue shape.
The soothing smell of camphor fades-
As water churns with twirling blades.
It is then that dreams come out to roam-
The spirit undresses in sure white foam.
We feel this movement and sense the light;
As we are devoured in different flight.
Copyright © Theo Constantinides | Year Posted 2014
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