The wind in my sails
has disappeared;
and I doze fitfully, feverishly
as waves of illness
sweep across the bow
of my little boat.
In the distance
the birds sing cheerfully, merrily.
I yearn to sing along;
but that song must wait.
The healing power of a quiet tide
is what is best for now.
has disappeared;
and I doze fitfully, feverishly
as waves of illness
sweep across the bow
of my little boat.
In the distance
the birds sing cheerfully, merrily.
I yearn to sing along;
but that song must wait.
The healing power of a quiet tide
is what is best for now.
I hope it's not long before you begin to sing again! Hope you've found a quiet cove...
ReplyDeleteThank you! I'm back to singing and painting after a brief mooring. :-)
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