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Sep 2011
I sit looking at them.
Their names stare at me with blank expressions.
In a mood of unabbreviated luck, I choose one
but only one.
This curious anchor weighting me
now sinks to the bottom of the lapping tongues of water.
Once an idea of adventure, turned into an anchor of responsibility.
This beacon of skyline, no longer looming
defeated by its own receding horizon.
Sarah Oppenheimer
Written by
Sarah Oppenheimer
759
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