Roses in our old beds
Laying unmade
Are only wilting
While they rest
And the ones we tend to
Grow mature
Sand is only blacker
The closer to the coast
Tightly packed beach
In between your toes
Lit by a sunset
Closing down the world
It’s time to go home
It’s time to go home
To a tent
To a car
To a house
To a home
To sweet music, jokes,
And a family your own
Sand between your toes
On a border of two states
Cape Disappointment
A bridge between two worlds
We all walked to that wedding
But came bac...
Published on October 07, 2018 10:45