(no subject)
breathing comes easy,
not shaken by these rigid waves.
wind & water form the sediment,
a nondescript sea of grey sand and shells
against the skin of bare legs.
twenty yards down the silver shore,
lays the soft imprint where i once sat
staring at the same ever-changing waters,
now viewed from another vista.
sensing the distance more than ever,
like the atlantic in december
i take solace in it's bitter taste.
oh to thrive;
is to stroll along beaches of salt & glum
the sun & my smile.