If there’s land out there – A Poem

Troubled waters, rain coming in cold.

The wind kicks it in my face, wetting my beard.

I don’t see the shoreline anymore.

If there is land out there, I haven’t seen it in days.

Thunder cracks the sky like an anvil being struck.

I never get the smell of salt off my skin, even after a shower

and fresh clothes.

Will I see the shore again? Or will I find out what lies beneath the waves?

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