Somewhere, long ago,
a careless shovel laid drops,
spilled cement on tar,
tiny islands on the drive,
raggèd weathered shapes
strewn on an asphalt ocean,
archipelagos
unremarked beneath our feet.
Standing on the deck,
I view accidental map
opened far below,
dream of peoples habiting
such far flung places,
setting forth in tiny barques,
the paved ocean to explore.
Line count: 15
Form: Naga Uta
For The Naga Uta Poetry Contest, August 2023
No Prompt.
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