Static, somewhat

On that Saturday I no longer remained static, only somewhat. The lighthouse garnished, like a cake topper on a grassy mound. On the climb I was repelled by its whiteness, and I rather not push the boundary. Instead I sat and looked, still, as the enormity of the drifting vessel moved our planes in a parallel motion.

The Queen moved me, or so I thought.

2 thoughts on “Static, somewhat

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