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  • Writer's pictureWSD


I am like driftwood,

With as many scars –

Mementos of sand, sea and time,

Soothed and engrained

By experience,

Dreams and false expectation,

Regrets and exaltation,

Love and loss

Of all, that time can offer.

Time is scant,

When it comes to these ideals –

Yet, I have roamed

From shore to shore

And moved with many a tide,

I have dived in and out

Of hearts and minds,

Now left abandoned

To weather the final storm

Mayhap you come across me,

And see into my dying soul,

You may reach out

As I reach out to you,

Love me one last time

As I yearn for your love

And your gentle touch,

Take me from this isolation,

Place me upon your mantelpiece –

And let us warm by your fire


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