lighthouse
I am misplaced like a key
or a glove or a memory
right within plain sight
I’ve always said
I don’t belong here
no matter where I stood
I live near a river
but was promised the sea
and now my mind wanders
adrift in a vessel without a name
there’s always this calling
[call it what you will]
working in the background
occasionally handing out
a hint or a proposition
but mainly observing
like a lighthouse
july two thousand twenty-three
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved





