Words That Drown in the Tide
Day upon day I roll up the papers
As if little scrolls.
These papers contain facets and reflections
Of the love for her
That I have extracted from my heart
And converted into words
Along with my sadness, disappointment,
Hope and courage.
I place the papers in little bottles.
I cover the opening with a cork – watertight.
I ply the words at night and in the day
I fill the bottles and pray
They get to her.
I drop them into the water from the cliff where I dangle
In the relentlessness of the sun
They are gone
With the current
To be found by her and either saved
Or allowed to pass
To become more words
That drown in the tide.
Does she even go to the ocean
To await them?
I close my eyes and see her now in my imagining:
Sitting upon a rock on the shore with a net,
The moon shining upon her water-misted skin,
The brine smell twisting in her windsoaked hair.
I see her hand hesitating,
Her eyes deciding
Whether my words are deserving
To be rescued
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