Friday, April 4, 2014

not there

I stand listening to the plaintive cry of the gulls,
my eyes closed, hearing the shushing of  sea on sand,
willing myself there.
The gulls cries are what carry me away,
where my heart forever bides~ by the sea.
Eyes open, I see where I am,
I hear the waves turn into wet tires on the highway;
 I am in a parking lot longing for a sandy shore,
 longing with all of my being.

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