the Writing is in the Sand

Waiting for a train, my mind wandering,
wondering if what they say is true; if blue
can turn cold gray, if you are only a dream
that turns to dust and vanishes like all
of the others or if you were ever here at all.
I have a heart in my pocket and two cents
in my Levis that say it is real, you are real,
these starry skies are more than a mirage;
river pools swirling I love you’s all the way
to wet beaches where sand dollars glisten,
waiting for you, me, (us) to take them home.



5 thoughts on “the Writing is in the Sand

      • Ahhh…yep, we go thru those spates where the rain squalls and falls so ugly and fatsplat, rather than the singing delicate dancing down and onto the thirsty longing earth…

        no, this one is in that sweet fat groove, and I can see the careful stitches there…just so gorgeous and longing and yet so certain and hopeful. God that beaches/sand dollar metaphor means so much to me right now…it is central to a story I am writing right now!!!
        ❤ ❤ ❤ really fab

        Liked by 1 person

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