This land does not have the herbs,
Its trees are not dressed with birds
Whose songs are familiar to me;
It takes too long to walk to the sea
I have not counted until sand
Knew the crevices of my hands (in an eternity)
Sand must have lost my memory
All I have is the reverie
Of saving seashells on the seashore
From being part of the perpetual yore
That keeps at a hush their wisdom;
They long for me to return
To pick them up and pour sand out
To clear my ear, to clean their mouth;
To listen in on nature’s kazoo
While sitting on the morning dew
As sea releases the sun
And day breaks from the rerun
And heart acts as a photovoltaic
Awed by clouds’ mosaic
Never seen by yesterday
And will not be by another day
But witnessed by my hungry eyes;
It is a pity that my life belies
This most blessed existence;
By foot the sea is at a distance
Too long to catch sunbeams;
All I have are the dreams…
Copyright © 2011 Leslie Alexis
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
What a lovely collage of images of sea-shore including those of a sun-rise that carries a comforting nostalgic flavour. This is indeed a great poem. The language and the rhyme are perfect. Thanks. Of saving seashells on the seashore They long for me to return