It is September, yet
I can still hear the beach.
The sea moves and swells;
it tumbles to the shore,
dusts itself off,
then rushes back towards the sand.
I think this could heal me:
the sound of wind,
the sound of waves,
and being at the right place
at the right time.
crying over a simple email
the lasts build a lump in my throat
last time beaming onstage
signing yearbooks
wearing a stiff blue skirt
One girl’s lanky frame against the dark turf field,
lit up by fluorescent lights
She saunters toward the building
holding another girl’s hand
The screen stares back at me:
9:30 pm,
an unfinished assignment,
a deadline due.
My weary chest heaves a heavy breath.
Comments
The sea IS a healing place. There's something about the gentle crash of waves and the fresh, salty air. You were really able to capture that feeling, in only a few short words.
Thank you! The beach makes me feel at peace, and I wanted to express that feeling. I've been trying to write with meaning while cutting out unnecessary words, and I think this poem reflects that.
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