Contributed by Jake Heckman
A lonely boy amidst a sea,
He could be you or could be me.
Upon his raft grows an apple tree
With fruits of gold and lime green leaves.
The fish and the birds know of him,
Swim next to him, share space with him,
But he never even thinks of them,
Says words to them, sings songs with them.
He only thinks of smells of purple
That stay and linger on his shirt still,
Only thinks of light brown specks,
Circled tan and fleshy flecks.
His siren’s song is strong and lasts,
The notes make trails that guide his raft.
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