I had rarely felt.
Just as a boat stuck in a work yard would feel.

Rust,
small puddles
all randomly collected on this
long forgotten vessel.
It had once begun its life existing among the seas.
The Sea was real.
It was almost certain of it.
Yet,
spatterings were the only whispers it had ever
heard of its existence.
Distant memories only scribed onto its keel,
faded paint its own cave drawings.


The other boats had been and gone.
News of their voyage
lost against the shores,
where the sand would lap up various tales,
keeping it all unto itself.
The beach was good at holding on.

The boat would sit there suspended for many moons to come,
or at least that's what it had thought.

(Inspired by Late – Nils Frahm)