Saturday, August 29, 2015


Walking beaches,
A wreck of someone gone,
Who ceased to be,
Apart from by the sea.
Condemned to cold shade
Where once the sun shone;
Never seen, never heard,
Blank and ghostly.
Not even a silhouette is present,
Wet sands are never stirred,
And yet it seems
The ocean talks
Loud enough to torment
With maudlin verse
And false - forsaken - dreams.

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