Anchors mean something very special to me.


The shape of an anchor is the shape of love, embracing you to give you the warmest hug that soaks through all the pain you know to hold the broken pieces of your tired mind together. Anchors hold love, and the hands that touched the rusted chains know the pain of rough edges held between fingers, sealed away from time and thrown into the ocean knowing all too well that what’s gone will always come back different. The sound of the heart that survived the storms and sailed across empty oceans whispers  of the oceans that name the seagulls, reminds me of all things warm and hopeful… like the last sip of tea an hour before midnight, like messages in bottles that sailed faster than we did, like the twinkle in the eyes that watch the stars with me. Anchors are symbols of love, passed down generations to fit in each life like the stories that rest so comfortably in your heart to point you to where you belong.
Anchors are so full of love; anchors are all I know.


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