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Jun 2014
the lone survivor is on
his raft at sea
creaking and swaying
in a tide that can't decide
calmness or turbulence

the sun is out yet
the clouds are endless
together in their gray
unison like a blanket
of dust

his eyes greet the waters naught
but opaque and black
were it not for the navy streams
from the poor muddled light
Might add to it.  Wanted to make a more metaphorical poem.
Kenneth Everett Rathburn
   elizabeth capital
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