The Cliffs of Coal

As the men lowered sails and anchors we rowed, towards sheer faced cliffs made of the blackest coal.
With a pace laced in sweat carving and slicing waves, to reach her shores before nightfall was our goal.
For the sun was beginning to set in a western heap and the skies were beginning to toss and turn with a trouble,
I thought of a gate that I had left behind, stood in the rain turned upside down reflecting on her beauty of concrete backyard rubble...

Cares

mugoob mugoo ;)