My face to the morning mist,
again I misplace what I could see,
my little sailboat of dreams,
out there so close it had seemed,
but now somewhere adrift.
No matter how distant,
I shall stand here ashore to find it.
I shall face all that I have missed,
all that surely must exist
as sure as me, here.
Friday, March 15, 2019
Topic(s) of this poem: dream,hope