It started with a blank canvas
A faded tarp, hiding such a multitude of sins
Actually a weathered hulk, with broken shattered limbs
Forgotten craft beached up high, safe from the rising tides
By wind and weather every day beset on every side
Skies grow dark and thunder cracks, the canvas tears away
Spreads its faded wings and flies, far out across the bay
Exulting in another life, another chance to be
A flag, a tent, a sail and more, just wanting to be free
The wind abates, the canvas falls back onto solid ground
And now it waits with bated breath just hoping to be found
Perhaps a child, or fisherman will find it on the shore
Some loving care, a wash, some paint - it will be blank no more
Copyright © Nicky Scowen | Year Posted 2024
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