Angel Piscola



Her heart beats like the
spinning beacon of a
warning sailors not to
crash upon her rocky shore
but rather let her come aboard
the ship and steer it safely
towards the harbor
where they might unload
their baggage and the men
might go to the pub
for a bite to eat.

Her hair flows like
the air, flows through
the sails
and guides my ship to
unknown waters,
a journey to
and nowhere

Happy Birthday, My Love