At The Waters Edge

I always imagined her
longed neck –
paddling frantically
high and low.
Caught on the horizons sidelines
searching for that safe place to go.

How well she finally
homed that landing
with her salt-laden, sunshine smile.
The corners
of her mouth angled at ease, a tributary
of waters now long ago laid so wasteful at rest.

That once, straight backed shape –
now eel-like, curved in composure
fragile in this, her new found
sanctuary of endings.
Of all her reasons, left unadorned
in the nothingness of such a lonely
biting conclusion…

Poppy
25th January 2014

 

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