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.
They deserve to laugh and sit on the floor and coo over babies.
They deserve to talk in a language I don’t understand.
They deserve to look at each other with love.
Sweat gathers everywhere as
I climb the golden pavement.
The known ways, the known faces
are waves in the sound.
Strangers
are the closest companions.
You take a shot
and I let it go.
You say I’m pretty
and I let it go.
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.
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