This is me flexing the writing muscle after ten days away from the keyboard. Hitting the books for school is tiring, but highly necessary. Now, I'm back, and here's a poem to commemorate my return.
The sea gifts me
With sandy toes
And salty kisses.
Its waves crash against my memory,
And your face floats up like drift wood:
Useless scrap evidence of what we once had,
What we once were,
And all that we are not.
But the current pulls my mind out to sea,
And life beneath the frothy blue surface preoccupies me
The way you never could.
There is life
that sprouts tentacle fingers,
And spits bubbles
That release oxygen prisoners.
My fingers trace prickly purple spines
That shoot defensive poison darts
To keep its tips from meeting soft underbellies
Concealed by stone solid armour.
Nature was always one step ahead:
Build walls that keep frisky divers away;
Never trust the tourists who never intend to stay.