Whispers of a better place fall from the lips of the tired onto the ears of the weary.
Like stray dogs looking for a place to rest their bones.
They say that storm showers are a little more welcome.
The air isn’t quite as chilly.
The sea doesn’t have as much salt.
The breeze fills the lungs with ambition.
And there’s always a warm meal for the hungry.
They say, “Show me the way to Chelsea.”
Where your hair becomes soft and your heart becomes strong.
A place where it is easy to stay and hard to leave.
A place for those worn and weathered at sea.
For the lost and for the found.
You can bury your heart in her soil and let it grow.
So when you’re not sure which which direction to take.
Just say, “Show me the way to Chelsea.”