Identity and Impermanence

As the longship came ashore
to the tundran pine strewn floor
droplets sprung from rested oar.

Gliding silently it came
at sunset with sails aflame.
Neither home it had, nor name.

Though the world had heard its tone;
creaking mast and hawser moan
to itself it was unknown.



Poetry by An-ders
Read 281 times
Written on 2020-09-23 at 22:54

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Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
Nicely done!
2020-09-23