A lonely boat drifts along a empty shoreline
The wooden wharf hangs in the sea with despair
A broken plank, moss on the sides of your shoes
I guess you would step into the waves’ cold wash
And I watched the pier crumble from the coast.

I remember we could share dreams and hopes
Paint our nails in black and white like Celts
You would sing and I would play cold guitar
A lonely voice harmonising for two lost girls
And maybe we’d strike a chord in lonely hearts…

The thunderstorm raged on between the flashes
The lighthouse coded a last warning in the dusk
A spring storm is coming but you never listened
You wanted our songs to be carried on the wind
A pity all we heard were your screams in the flood

Somewhere a lonely boat floats on the fading drift
Your body bobbing next to a fisherman’s ragged net
The sister I never had speaks to whales in the sea
In the flotsam and jetsam of a cold spring breeze
But you will always be my little stepsister to me.


Om joannavanschaik

Science communication graduate. Music, poetry, literature, travel, science and language collide in this blog.
Det här inlägget postades i English och har märkts med etiketterna , , , . Bokmärk permalänken.


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