A social site for poets in Sydney.
I love the bay like this.. stone cold blue-gray watercolour day. The sea, slapped by wind, snarls back with foamy grin as if to say, keep hitting me…. see what happens? The wind backs away... comes again and again… trying to tempt a good pelt of rain.
Closer to shore, lone black water-bird flies low across the blue, drawing an expressive line.
Nothing but time, baby. Nothing but time.
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Thanks Catherine.
Men do slap women. Women slap men. Parents slap children. Siblings slap each other. Some people even slap the rump of a horse.
Writing in a way which leaves the meaning open to interpretation is my way of hiding in plain sight.
Thanks for your lovely comments, I'm glad you like it.
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