Rigney Deliso

Hair like lightning

Sprung from her head,

In her garden she chased

Spirits of the dead.

"The keeper of the ghosts!"

The townsfolk would cry,

And from foggy windows,

I glare across the counter from my spot nestled between the folds of the brown paper bag. Stupid Gala is doing that thing again, as she has every single day, for the past, I don’t know, week?

The sun smiles down

The waves laugh along the shore

The beach steals my heart

The waves now crash hard

With such passion and anger

Nature is alive

We were sitting  

On the sand 

Along the shoreline 

Our laughter 

Splashing into the silence 

Of the night 

I could feel the heat flush