Slow Winds Carry Me Home

It’s summer at sea
And the winds blow free
As a thousand tomorrows drift by
Alone on the waves
Marking centuries’ graves
As the ocean of ink slowly dries
A rattle of keys
In touch-typed symphony
Sings the dying souls back into life
And the Writer exhales
Putting wind to the sails
(need something that ryhmes with life here. Then some bit about getting back to literary shore. Or a shipwreck or something. Ooo, NaNo shipwrecks! hehehe ^_^ Hmmm. Too sleepy, will think of good line tomorrow)

And now I need a nap. *wanders off to bed*

Martha Bechtel

My name is Martha Bechtel and I write fantasy and science fiction stories, paint small model horses silly colors, cast resin and plaster magnets, code random code (and Wordpress plugins)... Come on in and join in the fun!

This Post Has 2 Comments

  1. nmdrkangl

    strife?

    wife?

    knife?

    1. Martha Bechtel

      I was thinking of ‘And pulling them free of the strife’ but it doesn’t feel right. ๐Ÿ˜› May have to change ‘life’ to something else. I think I need another stanza in before the ‘life’ triad anyways; too sudden a jump from setting the scene to the writer mucking about. Hmmm. Ya know, this is probably why I shouldn’t try writing poetry when I’m sleepy. ^_~

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