They will fade
if I further.
Wind breathes
to bulge sails.
I stand
on the stern,
wave to their
figures on the jetty.
My mother waves back.
My father motions with his hand
to steer me, points to a rising
crest that wraps and lifts the hull.
I could stay here,
at this distance.
Yes. I think I will.
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Mothers wave fathers motion.
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very nice, thank you for posting. can be read on so many levels.
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Thank you for the kind words!
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