November 13, 2008



We set sail from the beach
Once occupied with laughter
Now dead
The water fills the holes

The wind dies
So does the trip
The old man sneers
Taking the helm

Experience leads nowhere
But paddling does
I remember canoes capsizing
But they have not touched water in years

There is a storm coming
And darkness falls
Race back to the cabin
Through the forest

Memories fly

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