Let's hope this cloud lifts
until it does, I'll find a boat.
For days on end, in it we'll sit
as our vessel, it drifts.
*
Steer our way out of the storm
onto the open sea.
Maybe there the feathers of our wings
can dry properly.
*
Doesn't matter if we don't find
our shores of gold,
Lord knows all those riches
can turn out cold.
* * *
Until this storm lifts
we'll just sit
keeping sane with our wits
and drift.
YOU ARE READING
T A K I N G . F L I G H T
PoetryLiberty has lost herself and is searching for true freedom and that comfortable in between. This is a series of poems dealing with depression, anxiety and coping. I aim for this progressive work to be positive and up-building even if it does touch...
