October 18, 2008
I live in a cottage
From where seagulls perch
A house, if you will,
Built not far from church

For I and my child
We live here alone
With bricks and the ivy
The roof made of stone

Sometimes we must sit
So close to the edge
To breathe in the fog
That creeped up the ledge

My home always smelled
Of seasalt and rain
Like white-covered windows
The salt-covered panes

For weeks my depression
Is laced in a green
My husband was claimed
By the heart of this sea

So God is still with me
Just like he has been
He blessed me with wisdom
And pardoned my sin

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