there will be no more beach walks no more delighted glances over tea
there will be no more beach walks
no more delighted glances over tea
nor warmth against the chilling breezes
of the night; that which in the moment seizes
can the next fall back and set free-
a heart is slowly polished like the rocks
tumbling along beneath the aging docks
-smoothed o’er by the ever-restless sea.
the waves are blessed with such mastery
in drifting back and washing in the infinite
rocks that yield gleam with sun in the hand;
those that resist grind into sand.
now that there is the gentle touch of time in it
love me for who I am; not who I cannot be.