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My Little Boat

Knuckles bruised, hands sore, I frantically attempt—with bucket a hold—to bail out my little boat. The waves crash down with a large ‘snap’ resembling the noise of a large man’s clap. The waves are my many memories. They have flooded back from times ago with the girl, the girl who placed me out on this ocean and left me to drown in a sea of memories I cannot describe. I crafted this boat out of the remainder of my mind as a way to stay above the water. For months, gently, I stayed adrift without the slightest sway or tip of my little boat. The illusion of dry land had begun to emerge, when she returned. Suddenly, the waters rose slowly engulfing my little boat in the large waves of the love I once knew. I shouted a prayer to God to supply me with wings to fly away from this endless rage of lost ideas; but, I remain in the boat. I had long sense forgotten the waves I once swam through. So calm and cool like a tropical beach on a warm summer day… now it is different. These waves are ruining what I have created. My once warm and dry little boat is now overflowing with these memories. My small bucket is insufficient for my needs. The water cannot be held back: it is too much. I’m soaking wet, my face is cold; consequently, the ocean is feeling warmer than the breeze which floats my boat. Yes, the water is warm, and sweet—yes sweet. My little boat is now almost entirely submerged. Dropping my bucket the waves settle. Vanishing beneath the surface, with a deep sigh of long waited relief, I am swimming.




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