with your
promise of adventure.
Your mood
could change in heartbeat
you could
harm me – you have done before.
There is
always a journey
a line
that grows on the horizon
the tug
of the moon on the tide
an island
to plant my flag on.
You are pulling
me like a memory.
You could
charm me, you always do
onto some
miniature Odyssey
from
Ithaca, in my canoe.
The lure
of your Sirens’ song
a journey
from which I may not return.
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