November Poem 1: Marina (Part 1)

With the morning frost lighting the porthole

In the first rays of sun, I sat and watched

The reflection on my cup of coffee.

In the steam, I tried to imagine my

Daughter holding a sandwich and sitting

Across from me sharing a meal at the

Old card table where I had eaten so

Many times alone.  I pulled my scarred hand

Out of my pocket and warmed my fingers

On the cup before I took the first sip

To shake off the lingering grip of dreams.

The day was much calmer than last night when

The wind bumped the boat against the dock and

Rocked me to sleep in fitful remembrance.

 

How I Write: a Walk Through

 

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8 thoughts on “November Poem 1: Marina (Part 1)

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