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Dec 2014
Thinking of the canvas clouds,
How they shield my eyes from the sun's sharp dagger;
And turn their backs against the windy stagger.

It's as if I were boat on wind-swept seas,
Tilting with the tide,
Listing from side to side.

And my canvas clouds are there,
Holding me upright so I do not fall,
They love me, without a word at all.
Weary Traveler
Written by
Weary Traveler
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