in rising spray

I want to

write about

something else,

anything really,

but my head is

crowded with the sound

of the wind in lazy

puddles, the approaching

waves and the cries of

distant seagulls. I’ve lost

my heart again, the tides

washed it away, every

fibre drifting apart

floating along solitary

jellyfish, my heartbeat

trapped under

the deep sea.

I am looking for

the sea witch,

such futile

endeavour, as

she has already

taken her toll

and my gift is

hearing the

song of the waves,

until I sputter

and dissolve

in rising spray.


© Matthias Grupe, 2018

2 Comments Add yours

  1. lunarpoet says:

    Reblogged this on lunarpoet and commented:

    My latest poem over at the Literati Mafia has been doused by salt and water


  2. azephyrrose says:

    I love the thought of the wind in lazy puddles. Delicious!


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