I sit alone on sandy shores,
Damp with the sea’s salt water,
My eyes squinting against the stinging winds,
The spray of the tide soaks in my hair
While looking out for something I lost.
The rough-cut surface of water churns with my misery.
Taunting me with the prospect,
Of having stolen my one treasure.
Teeming with the hidden things underneath,
The tide bring in objects,
From far away places,
Traveled across the ocean,
Weather-beaten planks of wood,
A half a mast with the sails missing,
An oar or two come in covered in seaweed,
And then jewels that someone might be missing,
But I don’t see you.
And I still sit,
Alone in this wide world,
That is submerged in water,
And sometimes even I wish,
That the high tides of the beach,
Gray and foaming around my ankles,
Would just wash me away,
YOU ARE READING
Sometimes She Likes . . .
PoesíaThis is a series of poems that I wrote, mostly about emotional struggles and sad things like that. Hopefully I'll be adding to it soon, but that all depends on the feedback. If you like it please leave a comment or whatever you feel like. Thanks a b...
