Surely you can't be serious? I am serious, and don't call me Shirley

Thursday, November 11, 2010


Floating island, all alone
What will anchor/rope me home?
The place I feel truly rooted
Not from tens of places, booted

Water flowing all around
Whom will my anchor be bound around?
Seaweed clasping, ever encumbered
My days feel stale, ever numbered

Glimpsing sunrise from my craft
Where will my wind feel a draft?
Bump, slide, grind, I feel sand
Guess there's a tide to this island...

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