Once, when I was idealistic,
seashores sounded like home
now I know how surf crashes,
undertows have drug
half my dreams
(such salty reasons)
against sharp shells
and I am cut cruelly
by reality.
How I long for mountains, real clouds;
those wild horses, frothing
to get elsewhere.
I am penned in, like crustaceans,
at a dockside pound.
I watch sea-driven smother of fog
try to hide this hesitation
at chewing through bone
to try a desert for the duration.
Author notes
Prompt - a new place
My own photo
Please tell me what you think
Comments
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This is awesome, it sent immediate pictures through my mind as well as an unexpected outlook. I love the shore, yet dwell inland here with all the green...could there be a reason I stay put? What an immense and insightful perspective. Best of luck in the contest.




