The line between the sea and the sky is

the end, and then the beginning of something

new. A promise

to Future’s wings which

fan the fire of juvenile desire

and go! Flee! Don’t turn back your eyes

must face forwards now and new things will be yours

to mould in your cupped hands like a smooth,

ripe mango. Many a journey lingers in your

laughter and foamy fingers cling to your stern,

but don’t look back on your wistful daydream

it stays there still on the shore and looks on,

upon the horizon.

Sure and sheer it cuts

a straight line clear as the deftness of your serious eyes

which gently tug the sky back to the earth

and yes, a neat line is a satisfying thing nestling

in the smudges of drab grey space which surround us.

Some things can be wonky and charming like

teeth, or fringes.

But not a horizon.

© images and content Emily Hughes and searchingtosee, 2013