Rusty oars caked with
Dust. Ripped sail billows in the
Moonlight. Stranded, huh?

The wayward wind, with
Its lightening speed, took o’er
The reins. Castaway.

None would come for us.
Where even the shadows, would
Not dare reach. Forgone.

And before we knew it, our link with the rest, was severed…. perhaps, forever. 

Mia

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