Pea Green Queen.

The rocking boat

the pea green stance,

the violin,

the vials dance

and trickle down

wet, worn skin

into water

diluting sin.

The crooked boat,

the poets play,

the oars on both sides

in affray.

Bashing hard

and beating water

to save me from

wandering from her.

Closer, closer, closer still

with withered hopes

and free will

the crooked boat,

its drifting dew

to end its wanders

and doubts for new.

The poet sits

and writes some lines

but the letters translate

into vines.

The water trickles

onto words.

They are not needed

to cure these hurts.

The poet sits,

it’s all that’s needed

for the crooked boat

so poorly treated.

With passion and fire

it has been heated

and with wary haste

the two are greeted.

A united front

in shy smiled haste,

this boat and poet

full of grace

take to the lake

to find new parts

of themselves

and of their hearts.

These bashing, beating

oars on blue

thus save me from

wandering from you.

The reign holds me in,

the warmth of my Queen,

sailing lonely

as a boat pea green.

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One response to “Pea Green Queen.

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