A small price for some prose
Lumbered down to the harbour
To get me rain and maybe closure
The mountains loom
In the curves of the cove
Around these cardboard rooftops
Clouds drape like petticoats
There is still so much beauty
To rattle and creak for days
Sails to accompany me
Gentle beams on placid waves
Then hungry ghosts of seasons past
Clung trembling to the boughs
So I scraped and scrubbed them off
Like baby barnacles
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