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Lee"word"
Lost in a sea of lines paper
Peaceful thoughts bring soft gliding
But, In storms of anger,
I cleat my lines
In hope of gaining control.
Gunneling up to my feelings,
Throwing this choppy soul
To written winds carrying me
In bountiful breeze.
Steering rotting rudder leeward.
Home.
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This is a metaphor poem comparing Sailing and liturature.