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Jan 24
By Durance Vile, my mind is moored

Its waters ebb and flow

The backwash-break brings back

bright balance

-Uncovers one swash stifled rope

...........................................................­...............

This earthly anchor, untying with the tide

Holds hostage, half aquatic

Guarded grip makes docile, God! moreso, dreary

Hard choices hold chains for the static

      ...................................................­................

In absence of any ascent to dry land

Docked, I'm doomed to dally a while

'Til the noose tugs undone, or I sever it short

And set sail for Durance Vile
Conor Neuhaus
Written by
Conor Neuhaus  Germany
(Germany)   
189
     Fawn and ryn
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