July 17, 2015

———

My pack is heavy and so are my eyes.

I’ve walked for days and crossed several seas,

Filled with flotsam and phosphorescent greens.

Those ocean currents pulling on me.

But now I sit on a stump surrounded by dead trees,

With twisting arms bare, praising the breeze,

And I try to soak in the few moments of relief.

———

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