No trespassing

Still, how often we ignore warning signs...

But what if there are no warning signs and one keeps treading on in good faith ... and all of a sudden finds oneself stuck in a queachy bog with no escape...

Out of the rock

Some weeds find enough to sustain them in the salty rocks of the sea shore

Abandoned

hauled out
of her natural element
tied fast to the ground
her paint crackled
her stern smeared
behind her a stone wall
surrounding a house
a big house with a shiny facade
windows adorned with lacey curtains
satellite dish on the roof
in the wall, doors
all locked and secured

in passing
i pause for a moment
wondering if
there is any future left for her
wondering if
there is still anybody
to stroke her weary sides
to sand her, paint her
antifoul her bottom
and let her feel again
the soothing rhythm
of the sea

Interaction

Dry weeds...

...and what they are hiding...

Uphill struggle

Where does it end? What lies ahead?

Settling...

... for a few moments...