Between ebb and flow

Ina

We meet on the shore where our minds mingle with the falling tide,
Fragments of our past blow by, in painful grains of sand,
Leaving salt that tastes like dried up tears,
Shells speak to our ears softly
Of what has been.
Of what has been
The waves whisper, then grumble
And we walk away from each other again
Because the water is getting too high for our feet.
We should have worn boots. I know you don’t own such.

View original post

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Please log in using one of these methods to post your comment:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s