They are young, I am old, I have achieved a solid age. I am a rock, shy of a rising tide. They glitter in the daylight, even if that warmth draws them cold. Somehow they survive, take root, embed or toss within the bay. The bulging sea merely touches them, yet it washes me away.
Oct 24, 2015
Oct 24, 2015 at 7:11 PM UTC
They are young, I am old, I have achieved a solid age. I am a rock, shy of a rising tide. They glitter in the daylight, even if that warmth draws them cold. Somehow they survive, take root, embed or toss within the bay. The bulging sea merely touches them, yet it washes me away.
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