when I miss him most
I walk to the beach
the memories are always clearer there
on the sun-warmed sand
where the wind's fingers play in my hair
and I can allow myself to remember
love had been
so like the sea and its waves
but waves of thunderous heartbeats
uncontrollable as an undertow
and we, just as powerless in its grip
each crest higher than the last
building to a final peak
then slowly down again
the rolling currents teasing
our own bodies home
to neap tide
our passion also spent
now I welcome low tide shadows
not those on sand
but here inside a memory.
I can certainly relate. I grew up next to the beach and each time I set my foot backon the sand, a thousand memories come rushing into my head. It's almost overwhelming.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
This is another winner, CJ! A beautiful memory can come sweeping in and sometimes just knock us right over with its power. This poem is very powerful even in its softness.