Thank you, my friend--
little by little,
waves of time wash the wound:
worn driftwood,
broken shells,
a distant foghorn.
I follow meandering footprints
disappearing in the sand--
Suddenly, a glorious sunrise,
bright as her laughter.
May 23, 2011
May 23, 2011 at 1:59 PM UTC
Thank you, my friend--
little by little,
waves of time wash the wound:
worn driftwood,
broken shells,
a distant foghorn.
I follow meandering footprints
disappearing in the sand--
Suddenly, a glorious sunrise,
bright as her laughter.
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