Thurman P. Woodfork
So, here I am, full of longing
Gazing out at the beckoning seas
Aching to depart, my very soul on fire…
But I’m locked in a prison that is me.
When did I arrive in this harbor?
Why did the reefs slowly form?
At first I was buoyed by their presence;
They protected me from the storms.
Now, as I drift slowly backwards
Till my keel gently grounds on the sands,
I fear I will remain here forever,
Marooned on these sheltered strands.
The sails have all been lowered
And the waves idly lap at my hull,
While a tear slowly wells and spills over
for a life grown barren and dull.
©Copyright May 10, 2004 by Thurman P. Woodfork
Author’s Note: For all those bunker-bound souls