The Witherings of Barbosa

No sense of touch
be-cursed was he
the apple but a dream…

long time in past
were eyes so blue
of beauty dream’d…

then as now
he could not touch
so’s a pirate did he die…

Arrrrr

I am a stranger in the city
Easily dazzled by the lights
the heights
the fast pace leaves me breathless.

Standing still I find my mind spinning…
Where do I go?
Where did I come from?

I long for the chair
that knows my comfort
the cat that reads with me…
I feel so far away and lost.

~ Jayne d’Arcy