Glass-and-Sand

Futile musings of an old ghost

The Storm

He must take the time, to warm up, to breath, to stretch.

Then he can set his limit: how long, how many, how deep, how hard.

And later he can look her up, her supple spine, her shapely legs, and more.

Still later, he will walk briskly, to the bliss of hot water.

Finally, he will reach the restful, silent corner of his dream.

For the scottian he is, the calm after the storm.


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