Without a Thought
My home, my nest, my sweet, spicey abode.
Where my heart's at rest, my heart's at rest.
Safely tucked in a pocket that the sea bestowed
where I have been blessed, I have been blessed.
I don't have to see my mother, the sea,
I hear her voice foaming in the mornings.
Just to know she waits, she waits for me
and can rush right in, sometimes without warning.
A danger is inherent in every blossomed rose
when you pick a flower without a thought.
I have come to respect the ocean's highs and lows,
and to watch my fingers around the lobster pot.
Lovers are the same, unreliable.
Nature is to blame, undeniable.
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