Without Sails

Years have passed, yet I cling to
an unrequited impossibility.
Encased in a moment is my mind:
a time capsule only I cherish.
My life, a collection of days, enthralled in
a fantastical myth of my imagination.

Inscription in a scroll with ink and quill
on parchment paper sits my soul.
Sealed with a wax stamp,
slipped into a glass, and
sent ashore to wade in water
come what tide or current brings.

My existence suffocated
with each sunset and season
that passes by.
The rise and fall of tides,
the currents high and low,
undulate in oceans deep.

Futile this journey is
for washed ashore will never be
the exhilaration of you finding me.


© 2017 Cyndi Piña, All Rights Reserved.

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