A crumpled page
in a book read long ago,
that was the time when I
was led to swim
in a world called the ocean
of poetry.
There were dreamboats twice as large
as the vessels that set out on the sea.
They had the power to launch the ships
and steer them safely to the ports.
Yet somewhere I do not know
why I tore off a page to make a boat on my own.
I stopped a long while reading the abstruse maps.
Sometimes on a whim, I pick up the book
and still, get stuck where I was.

Thanks +pasajul de noapte for the image

Originally shared by pasajul de noapte (noapte)