Beach
Beach
If someone should ask me why
I walked the pier today;
why I picked up beach glass
or a bit of weathered wood...
"I'm looking for my brother"
I could tell them,
"though he is not here"
I'd say.
I'm looking for my sadness
to fly with the gulls...
to skip water with the stones.
The waves sound
like breathing,
rolling up the rocky beach,
falling back like breath
exhaling.
Am I seeking a message?
A sign?
He climbed these rocks,
hopped one to another.
He skipped these stones,
walked this pier,
touched the lighthouse.
The waves seem to answer...
he was here once
and I remember
my friend...
my brother.
MLS
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