Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Apr 9
It’s the depth of things that get me,
How minute the surface is,
yet we bathe in it.
Seldom they glance below,
But I remember being there,
Living each day beneath the choppy foam.
Finding peace from within,
Underneath every breath.

This season,
Aches my heart in pangs.
More than I am able to ignore them,
They ebb and grow like a heart beat.
The elegant rhythm,
Pulling me back.
To the place where I found myself,
where I see you,
And feel you see me.

It’s not the loneliness anymore,
It’s that piece of my soul I miss.
It’s the wonder of transparent minds,
Blending into a tapestry of angelic strokes.
Only we can see, touch, and feel.
The depths are calling from the silence,
As a traveler in the noise,
I long to go,

sigh

home.
J Michael
Written by
J Michael  24/M
(24/M)   
170
 
Please log in to view and add comments on poems