she misses
foggy mornings,
the sweet, sweet
salted, sticky air
&
taking the longer way to a home filled with love,
despite the trouble of tourists
for the peace found by prayer on the strand
or
the simple magic of toes in the sand
&
taking the longest way to work a job she thoroughly enjoyed
despite definitely, maybe, but probably running
late,
late,
late
.
genuinely,
most especially,
she longs for
just how easily it was to love
&
mostly just how swiftly
she grew to love
&
how deeply
she truly loves
that sweet, sticky sand
that had evermore
became the glitter that adorned her life
by the bay
YOU ARE READING
big feelings
Poetryan ever growing collection of experiences as told by someone's daughter
