Like an anchored vessel,
The old church mast creaks in the wind
The sun on its stern,
Blots the pews
So as your black eyes flash
From the sea of ivy
A new faith arises, a float of flightless feathers,
Hungry in a harbour fog
But brain enough to know
Who is shipping the goods back home
I love this.
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Thank you for your warm words – greatly appreciated and glad you liked it 🙂
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