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| picture: a 'wooly' belonging to a friend and made by Herbert Lorkin. |
In the lonely hours,
between tidal shifts
that come and go
in unsweet monotony,
you sewed memories
in emotional stitches
on a blank canvas
of loving.
Hours of thinking of her,
neatly sewn;
taken from landlocked
imaginings
aboard the rocking sea,
in the salty air
of sea and tears.
‘Heavens light
our guide’
but only she
is
Herbert’s
lighthouse.
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