The low rumble of the surf gives
way to sweet whispers as waves
lick at the black sand writhing
beneath an ardent summer sun.
With each wet swipe and stolen
taste, the sea retreats to savour,
then inevitably returns for more.
Posts from This Journal “poems” Tag
He wraps himself in buzzwords like resilience and hustle, but I have to wonder if they bring comfort to an empty life.
Spices explode across my tongue, melding with the warm flush of alcohol… A long exhale, eyes at half mast, head tilted in a relaxed lean. And…
Twelve birds perched on the power line, twittering over news that used to be secrets, teetering on the edge of gossip and scandal.