Floating Dock

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Craving these misty mornings,
Escaping to night-shattering dawn,
Rocking to the gentle undulations,
Sloshing soft on un-named lake lagoon,
Beating a metronomic pulse:
Soul-stirring.

Treading barefoot on grainy planks,
Leaving sleepy-land behind,
Feeling safely tethered, yet free,
Floating, yet (the rub) still captive,
Vanishing, axing clumsy clutter:
Conscience-clearing.

Listening to waking wavelets
lapping languorous against mast-moorings,
Gleaming droplets, glassy shards of sun,
Reflecting sky-blue dawning day,
Clearing back-of-mind cumulus:
Dream-defining.

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Written for The Sunday Whirl, http://sundaywhirl.wordpress.com.
The Sunday Whirl

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