will burn off,
or if they're harbingers
of the storm to come,
I cannot help but wish
you were still tethered close at hand;
that I could provide shelter,
that the shore were near,
and the waves so gentle
they'd only serve to add
texture to your reflections.
But we're neither of us made
to simply sit and rock,
and so we launch, and launch,
and launch again, and trust the seas
to guide us to our destination.
* * *
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