Sleepy eyes sloop off,
seeking respite
in the shadows
of his frowning
upside down smile.
Sea mist breeze
moistening
the dry skin beneath,
or is that the tears
in which he doesn't
want to believe?
Over him falls
a wintery haze
of reminiscence.
With persistence
it springs into view,
as clear as day
a kiss that shows
for a second
then slowly
fades back away.
Now just a part
of the scenery.
The sea mist
blowing gales freely.
The moistness
threatens to overpower
as it rolls down his cheek.
He sees
on the seat
beside him,
a feint scrawl
etched by two
teenage hearts,
so many summers
before.
A pull on his heart,
like the waves ripping apart,
causes more moistness to release.
Glistening as it falls
gently from his chin.
Thoughts locked
deep inside.
Words from which
he cannot hide.
Words he can't form into voice.
Looks over at the countryside,
then back at the sea view.
I miss you. Love was a song
and he didn't know how to dance.
Now he just stands upon
those seaside sands
where a flood of tears lands,
beside the rockpools,
that have formed
over years of his returning.
Thanks for reading
Follow this link for more.
https://linktr.ee/Wordsandfluff
You can find my New books
"Tales from the 44A" and "Stations
here
https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B0DBKXPN13/
and here
continue to do this.
Peace, Love & Poetry
Kyle
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