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S Feb 16
How many times will I be burnt by my own skin?
S Feb 16
Y’know, same old same old
S Feb 16
The patina of your leather against my cheek
Just makes me want to hold on tighter when you ride
S Feb 16
Separation is a poets wealth
  Feb 16 S
Marshal Gebbie
Hanging in a leaden sky
Gulls, in tight formation, fly.
Heavy snow's cascading flare
Sodium sharpness filling air.

Heaving waves carousing fen
Ocean's scent, aloft.. .and then
The skiff with oarsman pulling tight
Materializing from the night

Braving, now, a heavy sea
Puffing pipe, irreverently.
Oblivious of mounting gale
Abandons oar to set a sail

Skimming sharp to gravel beach
Shrugs aside hazards reach.
Wading into pounding foam
Smiling thought of ***, at home.

M@Foxglove.Taranaki.NZ
Not trying to one up you, fellow mariner....I felt I should tell you of the other old salt doing his thing, just around the corner  in the next stormy quay.
Inspired by Anais Vionet's beautiful rendition of maritime drama: "Harbor Snow".
S Feb 16
I’m cold
And you’re disappointing
S Feb 16
What would have happened if I never ran away?
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