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Love Poems

Sailing the Dreamsea to Michigan

It's a deserted building, a wasteland room,
The only signs of life on a laptop screen.
I sit there, I breathe, my heart beats out its pulse,
But of further movement there is none to be seen.

I sit, feet up, one hand cradling my face,
Silent, still, immobile, as if deep, so deep in prayer -
For all life is now purely internal, sending thoughts
Out over the dreamsea, and wishing, longing myself there.


Home - Writing - Scribbles Mail Hal C F Astell - Site Map