My mind to arms to hands to oars to lake
I cleave the sunrise glass-like surface, still
With just my lonely friend, a mallard drake
Thus set adrift, my thoughts, upon the wake
So buoyed by the breath of morning's chill ...
Oh, how I long to know the somber deep
To let my weary soul sink with the bream
But I have many vows that I must keep
My web-toed friend and I have loves to reap
And many lochs to row before we dream ...
Yes, many lochs to row ... before we dream.
~ 1st Place ~ in the "Standard Contest Number 135 Any Form Or None" Poetry Contest, Brian Strand, Judge & Sponsor.
~ 2nd Place ~ in the "Rhyme Time II" Poetry Contest, Laura Loo, Sponsor.
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