Lonely, like the ancient ocean
flooding fast upon the sand

past a fading line of footprints,
ankle deep in surf she stands

casting wishes on the water
like a sprinkling of snow,

light they land but moments after,
melt into the waves, and go..

Across the street, on scaffold rigs,
Construction workers hover
And if they’d glance my way, this is
What they just might discover:

A bedroom filled with books and pictures
All in frames of black,
A quilted bed and clutter
I’ve been meaning to attack.

And then, of course, upon a chair,
The other sight they’d see,
With pad and pencil, jotting words,
A rhyming poet – me!