My mind feels like a ship on a sea, always moving, sailing somewhere, maybe towards a storm, maybe towards solace. The masts are strong but they are starting to get more tattered with age, rage and vulnerabilities. How much longer? How much longer? Will I sleep in a ship port of peace with other ships that just rest there? The ship bottom is plastered in barnacles and old hopes that were hidden like treasure on the ship. You mean to tell me that the treasure wasn’t at the bottom of the sea tucked away in a chest, but the treasure was attached to the bottom of me?
About the Creator
Rowan Finley
Father. Academic Advisor. Musician. Writer. My real name is Jesse Balogh.
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A Dart at Dusk
Seconds ago, the sullen sun set on the two of us… my exuberant furry companion and me. A fresh breeze embraces us, delivering welcome relief from the day’s oppressive heat. His typical stumbling and staggering along — apace with a sloth — has turned into trip-trapping, high-stepping, almost skipping along.
By Angie the Archivist 📚🪶8 days ago in Petlife
Comments (2)
Those barnacles? Just proof that you’ve sailed through some serious adventures. Wear ‘em like a badge!✨
Yep and it will expand every year!!⭐️🏆