Posted in Poetry



Kay Rice
December 23, 2013

A shiver with the winds,
The sound of a storm begins.
The heart begins to race,
Time to step up, destiny to face.

The sound is sharper than before,
Metal striking a cold wooden floor.
The call is made, its time to go,
Time to fight, to fly and to crow.

A coin with a curse has come home,
Flooding my soul with the urge to roam.
The witch cries out over the tide,
The waves, she knows, I was born to ride.

Once the salt touches the skin,
No other life can ever begin.
When the wind brings freedom’s call,
Your only home becomes the ship’s hull.

The pull becomes stronger with the wind,
My heart longs for the adventure to begin.
Fist clamped around this coin so cold,
It’s time to return to my crew so bold.



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