I could fall in love with this rugged land,
rough-hewn shores,
grace untouched by fashion
determination in each breathing leaf
shaped by the temperament of each wave that lands
over and over and over again
but as the moments stretch
diving into contented admiration
drowning in each sigh of satisfaction
the truth emerges
this is not my home
and this harbor offers me no shelter
i need not linger
so i throw it a silent kiss
turn my face into the fresh living wind
whisper a prayer of thanks
and move on
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3 comments:
The home is in the mind.
Whenever I travel I want to move there, to the place I'm at. Of course, I don't. Lovely.
wonderful imagery, your words liven my senses!
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