Beached

Love this picture. It is talking to me - but I am not clear on the message it is sending. Maybe I feel beached, stranded and forgotten. Waiting for high tide or a flood to come and wash me away to an exciting new life. Maybe I am just an old wreck that has outlived her usefulness. That's it - all those birthday cards my brother John has been sending me throughout the year - reminding me that the big one is coming. Rusting, listing to one side, pillaged and plundered - a crusty old ship but not without character and not alone. Still, beauty is found in her lines and form but you have to gaze at it from a distance with a squint in your eyes to see it. And Oh the stories she could tell . . .