% Oldest Friend Poem by Laa Finita

Summer's approaching,
and I can hear his call,
his salty, deep blue voice:
'Will you come after all? '

I tell him I'm afraid,
of feeling too alone,
my child won't go this year,
but I still hear his call.

I miss all of him,
his sapphire glow,
how he turns into silver,
when Sun goes home.

How wouldn't I enjoy him,
though I'll be on my own?

His dear rush in the mornings,
his hundreds shades of blue,
his greens, his violets,
sunrise, sunset, noon.

An open path in front of me,
defies me to enjoy,
My Lord Ocean's calling me,
and I'll answer his call.

La Finita