...we scribble on: a therapy both thoughtful and wasteful:
put messages in our bottles to remind us of us later;
freely forwarding our voices onwards to a sad new world
simply sending out our lonely liners on a sea of words...
...they are bobbing out on waves from the beaches where we stand
they go rippling out in rhythms that detach from our hands
at the mercy of the oceans, letters plentiful as sand
drifting, swept away in storms, washed ashore in distant lands.
some may find the ocean's bed,
a treasure chest,
to be sifted
by a child on a quest.
Posted on dverse open link night 84