Tuesday, March 29, 2011

A Dory of Apples


I set off from a beach
Of baby cobbles stones
And swaying sea grass

In the middle of the sea
There is nowhere safe
But in the Dory

No place to
Change your mind
To turn around and get out

There is no rational way
To swim to shore
Or have someone save you

My cargo, a load of apples
I was told to take oranges
But apples grow in my back yard

I dropped anchor
And climbed up high on the cliffs
of the other beach

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