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Jun 2014
Dispirit,
Alone,
No port,
Only storm,
A wake…
In high open seas.

Compress
Is gone.
Hull
Is all torn.
Rudderless...
And... all worn.
A providence...
There's no providence
… towards home.

Scuttling;
What is left...
To this destiny?
Theresa M Rose
Written by
Theresa M Rose  QUEENS
(QUEENS)   
518
 
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