#habour
The ships in my harbour lie and weep,
their wounds of salt, like secrets, seep.
Broken ribs cradle the quiet bay,
prayers of the past now fade away.
My fate a leaf, frail and torn,
scattered by winds where sorrow is born.
O my night, how shall I roam,
when the moon forgets its sky-bound home?
Your shadow rests where my eyes dream,
a golden sun within my stream.
Though roads may twist, they still conspire,
to lead me back to love’s bright fire.
Apr 4
Apr 4, 2026 at 12:24 AM UTC
Pots, coiled ropes, orange, blue
Laid, at the harbor side, waiting
Waiting, for the tide,
An old fishing net, laid on the concrete,
A weathered sunburnt fisherman,
Sitting quietly repairing holes within holes
Birds perching patiently on the harbor wall,
Waiting
In the distance the sun dips towards the horizon
Casting a light over a returning trawler
The birds lift lethargically from
Harbour perch, beat their wings , wheel
Towards an incoming meal ticket
Feb 17, 2015
Feb 17, 2015 at 6:12 PM UTC