By Colin Clyne
Copyright 2020
Flown further than the wind carries leaves
Sinking
lower than the roots of old trees
Sun
beats so hard that it reddens black skin
Yet
we bask in its heat and we try to begin
To
rekindle the warmth but the candle is dead
Dead
like the cold side of a widow’s bed
Where
once there were ports
Well
I can’t berth in those lies
Like
lightning strikes
From
the murderous skies
Where
once there were ports
I
can’t berth in those lies
We’ll
beach this lost love
Where the ships go to die
Hearts
and minds swirling out of control
Not
enough fingers for too many holes
Taking
on water faster than prayers
Bailing
the sadness with a cup of despair
Shelter
once known, so far out of reach
Dead
and abandoned she lays on a beach
Where
once there were ports
Well
I can’t berth in those lies
Like
lightning strikes
From
the murderous skies
Where
once there were ports
Well
I can’t berth in those lies
We’ll
beach this lost love
Where
the ships go to die
Times
a picture that we paint in our minds
Sinking
ships, nobody gets out alive