On the clear days when I’ve got water…
On the clear days, when I’ve got water through my hands
and I’ve got water in me that’s not just around me
in a blanked blue of roiling waves and wings…
When I’ve got that water in me
I remember how the shore really was.
I remember when I first touched the still sand
and laid my feet down on your warm to rest.
Just before the orange sets in above, I sit down
along the edge of the raft and look about.
Still that open water.
Sky seeping under golden red from that living garden.
Years of memories, years through many eyes
passing through me.
Your face has dissipated
to a forgotten air I breathe every moment. And still
I breathe
towards a bare horizon.
Mar 27, 2012
Mar 27, 2012 at 5:40 PM UTC
On the clear days when I’ve got water…
On the clear days, when I’ve got water through my hands
and I’ve got water in me that’s not just around me
in a blanked blue of roiling waves and wings…
When I’ve got that water in me
I remember how the shore really was.
I remember when I first touched the still sand
and laid my feet down on your warm to rest.
Just before the orange sets in above, I sit down
along the edge of the raft and look about.
Still that open water.
Sky seeping under golden red from that living garden.
Years of memories, years through many eyes
passing through me.
Your face has dissipated
to a forgotten air I breathe every moment. And still
I breathe
towards a bare horizon.
