Robert H. Thayer
Comments about Robert H. Thayer
Your roots torn free from the soil of your birth
No longer a prisoner of mother earth.
Adrift on a sea of perpetual motion
to be battered on the rocks, at the whims of the ocean
Years later washed up on this barren shore
trapped once again, as you were before.
Stripped of your flesh, your bones bleached white
Held captive in the sand that holds you tight
Awaiting a tempest to set you free