Your tongue is a rudder, it steers the whole ship. Sends your words past your lips or keeps them safe behind your teeth. But the wrong words will strand you, come off course while you sleep, sweep your boat out to sea or dashed to bits on the reef. The vessel groans, the ocean pressures its frame. To the port, I see the lighthouse through the sleet and the rain. And I wish for one more day to give my love and repay debts, but the morning finds our bodies washed up thirty miles west.
Posted on: Thu, 11 Dec 2014 08:49:42 +0000
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