Inland Sailing Away

Walking between potholes on gray salty asphalt terrain I could be a sailboat chopping on the salty silver-white sea Covered by gray skies above, warning of a storm Breathing in gales of stark, vast Absence of color and feeling. Distant boats dot the horizon Or are they homes with mailbox buoys offering warning? Serenity now. Stillness. Moving forward Glancing back Tears streaming down my face A salty sea-misty taste. To the bow I bow in submission Of lessons learned. Crisp wind slapping my face and Lips and the hair escaping my hat. Escaping