Cool, amid the midday heat.
The others were asleep.
If memory was made of glass, And I could see right through, Perhaps I’d see it clearly: how It’s always been with you Perhaps then I could understand What led you to each choice: The demons on your shoulder, and Your broken inner voice But such has not been mine, as yet – Clear-sighted memory …
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A morning friend by me Just sitting by the sea; I do not know where all she’s been, As she does not know me As lives are circumspect, And fortunes sometimes wreck’d, We find here on this sandy wet Our brief lives intersect My morning friend and I Just watch the waves go by: Before …
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the morning shyly moves away in waves of mist and cream; and i move damp with spray and sand into a walking dream the dimly cast horizon sits beyond the veil of sight; where time stands loosely, hands by sides, and day melds into night your breath i hear, your touch i feel, as light …
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The kind of trouble that she was I’d never known in all my days; But found in new and countless ways That trouble is as trouble does Entrancing in her loveliness, And seemingly so soft and sweet: I found her virtue truly fleet, For she, at heart, was pitiless Our troubles take a certain shape. …
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The sun sets on the bay in peace Away from where the waters roil; The gulf is awesome, frightening, But here, the watcher hides away from toil I find a pattern in these words: Tetrameter, that gives its way At last, to one pentameter – That final heartbeat of descending day
... The people on the beach out there ...
I grew up with this.