The sky is bright.
Bitter cold, the air.
Snow encrusts huge waves
frozen at their break.
Naked trees embroider
round the shore.
Beach grasses, tall, etch
the unmarked white.
One cannot deny,
fresh and clean the scene.
T’was wholly different
night before.
Bad dreams took hold
and she walked out the door.
Whence come the demons
of the night?
Is it fear that summons
them to bear?
But, why the fear?
Fear of what?
We talk, we share,
we laugh and touch.
I’ve never known a
dearer ear.
The warmth she brings
could light a fire.
And, hardy strong she is,
in spite her mounting ire.
Perhaps that is the source
of fear within?
Will my untamed ineptitude
push her to point of break?
If so, what shall I do?
The die is set for me.
I bend as grasses on
this beach.
I reach for wisdom
throughout our days.
I give to her in every
way I can.
But, I cannot be more
than crippled man I am.
Last night, that dream,
it was a ghost.
She has not left us yet.
I think perhaps she feels
that maybe this time round
she’s finally found her home.
I only hope it’s so.
Yet deep inside a twinge.
Perhaps my all will never be
what most she does adore.
Oh, those demons ...
They plague me still.
So chill this beach has now become,
on such a lovely morn.
|
Sunday, February 9th, 2014
Bridgman
MI
USA
|
