The seagulls have their own special formation, they swoop in and out, trading places to catch a crumb of fresh baked bread. Be ready though for they will fly right over your head.
The ferry boat shows off the sites, and the sound of the seagulls accompanies the tour, which wasn't near as lovely without your voice so soft and demure.
It's a lonely ride, without she who first showed me the sites, but I ride as the water slaps against the side of the boat, the seagulls though they don't care they want any crumbs that can be spared.
All the sites and sounds
The smell of fresh baked bread yet
Loneliness inside
__________________
Thanks for reading! - Sam
About the Creator
ᔕᗩᗰ ᕼᗩᖇTY
Sam Harty is a poet of raw truth and quiet rebellion. Author of Lost Love Volumes I & II and The Lost Little Series, her work confronts heartbreak, trauma, and survival with fierce honesty and lyrical depth. Where to find me
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