Remembering birthdays at the beach:
wormholes
drawing you backward
with the undertow,
your feet still in the surf,
the sand rushing between your toes
As you look up to watch
the ever-widening expanse of the past,
moving fast before you,
and you grow smaller, a boy
snorting the olfactory senses of childhood
when you still believed...
Hearing, once again, your mother call to you
John Tansey
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A nice poem, John Tansey. Read my poem Love and L u s t. Thanks