Setting Sail

I thought my poems were safe
resting peacefully in the sand
next to me while I drank 
an Aperol spritz, and bathed
in the sun. 

But cunning waves
crept closer and carried
my poems out to sea. Bound
for the Atlantic, sailing across
the Tyrrhenian. 

As they sailed away, I envied
my poems, course charted
for adventure and bound 
to spend quiet nights under
the starlit sky. 

They were always braver
than me, more honest, more
direct, bolder, with a greater
sense of adventure, or so I’ve
been told. 

It’s fitting they’re leaving,
because they never felt
a part of me. I’d often
read those words and not 
remember who wrote them.

Photo by Lopez Robin on Unsplash