Portrait of the blurred

The last drop of ink,
nipped in the cliffhangers,
moored is a barque,
flummoxed by knots,
longing to sail,
and tap its feet,
perform a ballet,
on the rendezvous
of winds and waves
counting pearls of possibilities,
cocooned in shells,
counting stars
nested on the seabed.

©songbriti

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