that smells like fresh earth,
paint so fine
Delicate rigging to hold up its mast
and the sails, with its golden worth.
But can this ship,
stay in its bottle?
How will it look with dust?
Will it survive the rage of a storm?
Before it’s completely lost?
The shine will wear off
and the mast will break,
the wind will rip its sails.
Fissures made with the raging gale
will let the tide take its place.
The splintered wood will drift ashore,
the wild will pick on them.
They’ll use it for wood, for shelter and more,
But oh! Where’s that glamour it gave?
~~~break out of your shell,
get past the boundaries and limits that hold you back,
and make it to the shore, somehow. ~~
Written by: Renata Steinwall
Image Courtesy: https://bit.ly/3ayQAcZ