suddenly, as if startled by an inward threat, she beat the water with her feet and, stretching her wings, she flew away.
all that remained of her was an oily slick and the foam stained wash of a frightened bird.
my last memory?
a glimpse of wings disappearing into the fading light.
I now sit at water's edge with my thoughts
and a stray feather or two.
The dream has sunk.
Her masts lying twisted on the rocks,
the rigging flayling in the breeze,
a broken back of a boat,
torn sails,
rusty rails
and not even a pirate in sight.
No, just me, with an axe in my hand,
scuttling the last remnants of
all we had hoped for.

I turn towards the barren shore to find the path
that led me here so many years ago.
It's time to climb back up the hill, and then,
gaining the summit, I will find my bearings once more.

One day, another dream will call me back.
This time, I will leave my axe behind.
I have a horrible habit of destroying my dreams
and scaring the wild life.