Deep in my heart,
the shards rest.
Shades of crimson,
worn smooth by the tides of time.

Deep in my conscious,
the anvil rusts.
Splotched and blistered,
eroding from the salt of a million tears.

Deep in my soul,
the child stirs.
Flesh and bones,
warming and flexing with each ray of hope.

PB. Jun 29, 2016


About Phil

Hi, my name is Phil. I’ve managed to escape the corporate world, rid myself of excess belongings, travel the country extensively in my old Winnebago, and find a new home on a beautiful barrier island in the Gulf of Mexico. I define myself as: a free spirit, a writer, a philosophical anarchist, a poet; a lover of nature, a lover of art, a protector of animals, as well as a devoted friend and partner
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