Member-only story
Throne
A poem about relaxation
at the edge of the tide’s flood lives a rock
poking out of the ocean
among driftwood couches
which transforms into a throne
moulding perfectly for my bum
and the arch of my back
with a footrest carved by time
so that I may recline
and take my place in paradise
for the evening on the Sabbath
after another week of ratracing
I get comfortable in this natural La-Z-Boy
temporarily making my claim to this rocky throne
and the air on my skin feels like the noblest of fabrics
the sound of the waves
gently caressing the shore
is like a mother’s comforting lullaby
I am a child in the womb
and the kiss of the golden hour sun
peaking through the evergreen seaboard
completes my sensuality
and I hadn’t a negative thought for hours
by the time I made my way back to the road
© Jozef Cain 2024. All Rights Reserved
