Neophyte

Decades have etched

Scrimshaw on skin

Worn furrows in heart

Sea of memory ripples

With ever-threatening storms

Changing times catch leaf-bare

Branches by breezy surprise

Wayfarer walks rhythmic pace

Toward year-end horizon

Feeling yet like neophyte

‘Mid unfamiliar land—

This joy, new taste of peace

©Sand Lashelsea, 2017 ~ All rights reserved.

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