Imaginations At 447

you lay your head
on the pillow on a bed on a boat
bound for Palawan
what you hear
because your heart is broken
is this dying boat slowly riding on the waves
rusting upon its hulls
with nothing in mind
but to just comply and complete
the journey
there are no dreams of welcome
no streamers
no drums
just an arrival and the usual
announcement: we have arrived.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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