You carried your smile that day
Over wild-shifting shingle
Which felt your unfinished hand
Dig to feel new-cold damp-smooth textures.
Looking not at the lovely terns;
For they hold no mystery,
Cannot be touched, fly away
Into their own shifting space.
Yet the gulls found a place
In your consciousness,
Demanding attention in their
Threat-screaming swerve-hurtling
Complaining at our trespass.
And returning you slept,
Waking with others at the coach jerk
For a soaring buzzard;
And soon asleep again,
Tired, unselfconscious, unaware
Of your open-mouthed drooling,
Busily dreaming the day
Into your mind forever.
This is one of those where I must ask the question, why? People write for all kinds of reasons. Some are obvious. Some are obscure. Some, like this one, may never be known. GW62
so reflective of what we are.have to go through. In life and in love. amazing piece
so reflective of what we are.have to go through. In life and in love. amazing piece
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
what a day dream :) ...nice.....10...