The Book Of Distant Love


3 of 6: Salt


My feet are bare, touching the waves
My hands, gently pressed into the sand
Searching into the distance for land far beyond my reach
As if to hear you calling, I stand
Like a ghost taunted by rumbling graves
The sea almost crushing, pushing my frame
Then sweeping me towards your side
I almost allow the tide to take me out
But I stand firm, straddled wide
My heart thirsting as the current takes aim
She billows, coming only for me
Then grabs hold and sneers
Missing you, these fears spinning in my mind
Am I drowning from my tears,
Or I am drowning from the vagrant sea


Love, B. R. Wren

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