Sailors, Take Warning

Red sky at morning, a fleeting warning
just as I see my wealth is aborning
if only, my coach exhorts, comfort zone
abort. I’m content where I abide, home

at last, solitude the gift I treasure
back in my wanton body, feel pleasure
where the narrative can’t encroach I sing
reality without reproach. Poise rings

with tuning forks. My feathered friends rely
on my largesse, teach me the sky. They fly
into the city wilderness. Sun’s touch
caresses as I loosen beliefs’ clutch.

Inspired by: Wanton, Encroach, Content and Abide.

Published by

Victoria Stuart

I'm a poet, philosopher and inner seeker. A giver, lover and a healer who studies the heart.

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