A smooth lake, like glass,
Spread my firm skin
No driftwood jutting,
Nor cut by wind,
Just unbroken surface;
Golden, superb,
And the mirror reflection
Lay undisturbed.
Time cut headway
Across my brow.
The ivory wake
Spills from the prow
And ripples out
Along the shore;
The wake unstoppable,
The vessel unmoored,
The tide receding evermore.
viewingcamelot 
August 15th, 2013 at 2:30 am
Who is the poet? I comment only if I know the name of the writer.
August 15th, 2013 at 3:34 am
It’s me, Cinnamon. I’ve written everything on the page: viewingcamelot.wordpress.com
I know I haven’t gotten around to writing the, “About” page yet. I can’t think of what to say.