that one with the punched lungs
has taught me to breathe freely
to expand in every moment
my view beyond the horizon
has taught me to get drunk on air
raise a toast to the blissful life
uncork & exhale my dreams
& inhale all possibilities
that one with the punched lungs
has taught me not to hie away
from each rum quaff of oxygen
each gulp, each gasp, could be the last
has taught me to square my shoulders
wear my sailor’s crown on high
walk the plank with a shambler’s jaunt
use my voice with ne’er a grumble
that one with the punched lungs
has taught me to sing shanties
to marinate beneath the stars
away from landlocked bores
has taught me to stand before storms
to know my place within them all
when even acid rain stings my lungs
when even the mast punches my lungs
by TETIANA ALEKSINA & TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2024
unbolt me 
Very strong, Tony. What imagery!
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Thank you, Dolly! (‘Tis good to see you!) 😄🙏
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My pleasure, Tony. I am trying to surface occasionally. It doesn’t always work.
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Great wisdom here. Something I need to do more is “marinate beneath the stars.” What a great line!
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Thank you, my friend. It’s definitely something I could do a wee bit more of too!
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That tugs my thoughts and asks me what I’m to make of it. I answer, nothing without further thought. Later
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I kinda love that it’s provoked some thought for you, Crispina. 😄🙏
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