beach thoughts

trying to remember my thoughts walking the beach at night... these would need a lot of work if they were ever to really be a poem...

. . . . .

i have known with my own eyes
why they say that the sea has fingers

and i have watching the moon
follow me home like a stray puppy

i have watched tendrils of foam slip over the sand
as delicate and delicious as the tendrils that cling in curls
to the nape of your neck