Or so it’s said
But I have heard the whispers
From beyond the grave
Black rock
Ensconced
Wind whistles
White capped crests
Sea slashed shore
Lacerated stone
Red cap warns
The waft of
Lazy water
In the air
A worm
A hook
A bobber
A length of string
And a stick
Contented child
All summer long
Three lives there
Faceless beneath the clouds
Unknown
Unknowable
But for outlines
Against the sky
One drops off the world
Lost forever
To anonymity
But for the unnamed character
Forming in the theatre
Of my mind
An Island without shoreline
Whose only boundary is infinity
The same Island that is every other being
Who has ever existed
Who will ever exist
Black rock
Charcoal sea
Flat grey sky
A scene to fit her mood
Remnants of a storm in passing
The waves, still high
Thrashed the shore
Flashes of brightness
In the monochromatic bleak
It occurred to her
Something needed to change
I capture a moment
In an infinity of moments
Preserved only for so long
As time will allow
Longer than memory, perhaps
A record of my existence
Shadowed by
A dark’ning sky
Drawn to light
Far out to sea
Held at bay
By wave and tide
Hold my hand
We’ll venture out
Explore the beach
And detritus
Left behind
By seas withdrawn
The clouds
A battery of waves
Roll across the sky
I lose myself
In the rumbling hiss
Of wind and white water
Taste the salty air
On my lips
Breathing deeply