Wednesday, September 01, 2010


September Sea

My escape is blocked by the waves' icy thrust,
the cold hard sand stiffens underfoot,
and the morning mist freezes in my throat;

My boat rocks gently first then rolls with wicked intent,
navigating amidst darting rocks is beyond my skill
when the Sea is dark and coldly crashing;

My escape is blocked, so his chokehold lingers,
and I am weary from the fight;
weary with knowing.


© ACG
01 September 2010