gently swaying
like a ship at sea,
tied to the main mast
of a maple tree.
gazing up
into sails of green,
still standing where
they've always been.
hearing the rhythmic swish
of wheels,
the waves
of passing automobiles.
close your eyes
and have no fear
there are no
sea monsters here.
for you are safe
tied to the dock,
there's no seafaring adventure
in my hammock.
YOU ARE READING
Counting Down the Days
PoetryIt is the summer before I leave for college, and I am staring into the empty abyss before me, wondering what to do with my life. In this collection, I am challenging myself to write something every day (now adjusted to every 2-3 days). I may write p...
