Seagulls.
Salty air.
Relentless pounding ocean waves,
felt more than heard,
will be seen soon.
Sand.
Wind.
A pair of footsteps crunching on the beach
under the full moon
will be the only human sound.
.
Blump.
Blump.
Tires gently singing their song;
more of the old bridge behind now than ahead.
We’re almost there.
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My inner poet begs to be set free. Some of these musings are old, some are new; some observed, others lived. Enjoy.
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