The cool slush of tires
rolling over puddles sounds just like
waves falling on waves in the distance.
As the sound gets closer, as the cars rumble
just out of arms reach,
the white noise from the radios
becomes a gentle breeze.
I stretch my leg out,
as if to dip my toes
in the surf.
The floor beneath me
becomes warm sand
that comes to life -
wrapping around my feet like a blanket
on a cold,
wet
afternoon.
God,
what I wouldn’t give for a good book
right now. Anything to pass
the ‘unforgiving minute.’
Because, just dreaming of waves
isn’t enough.
The sound haunts me and wakes me from a quiet sleep.
As they beat a cadence on the
helpless sand,
the waves are a constant reminder of time
and its limits.
Jul 13, 2011
Jul 13, 2011 at 1:51 PM UTC
The cool slush of tires
rolling over puddles sounds just like
waves falling on waves in the distance.
As the sound gets closer, as the cars rumble
just out of arms reach,
the white noise from the radios
becomes a gentle breeze.
I stretch my leg out,
as if to dip my toes
in the surf.
The floor beneath me
becomes warm sand
that comes to life -
wrapping around my feet like a blanket
on a cold,
wet
afternoon.
God,
what I wouldn’t give for a good book
right now. Anything to pass
the ‘unforgiving minute.’
Because, just dreaming of waves
isn’t enough.
The sound haunts me and wakes me from a quiet sleep.
As they beat a cadence on the
helpless sand,
the waves are a constant reminder of time
and its limits.
