▲ 0 ▼ March 31, 2016 at 1:40 pm David Michael Rose says: My nineteenth death. My twentieth beginning.
Beached by the storm, she waits.
Misery floated upon my troubled dreams.
My nineteenth death. My twentieth beginning.
Shoal tackled, rescue at high tide.
“Don’t give up hope,” he said.
“He” brought me to safety Blessed
I woke to hope and possibility.
Me and my dreams, now stuck
Just another river adventure gone wrong
seas ploughed, fishes caught. now rest.