Driftwood
Ladyfish
Hot summer sun smells of salt,
Squeaking sand under bare feet,
The slap of unfettered waves,
Gulls screaming obscenities.
Broken shells, broken glass,
Strands of dry and lonely seaweed,
Spent and melted sandcastles,
Footprints without shape.
A piece of solitary driftwood,
At water’s indifferent edge,
Worn, faded, alone,
Without defined form.
Dunes of drifting pain and loss,
Tides that never came in,
Memories without substance,
Of days long forgotten.
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