Every Day

The fog rolled into the cape, diffusing old memories
across the shingle. Her feet pounded on hard sand
as it yielded a little to the storm of her running –
an escape and a comfort. She scans the shoreline
reading an unknown meaning in the stones and seaglass
washed up by the waves and kept down by her feet.
A rhythm building with her breath, as they catch in
cool air and drift out as the ocean retreats.

The original three words to start this poem were “memories, storm, seaglass”.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s