A Poem of the Seashore
A Poem of the Seashore
For Lynn
A poem of the seashore;
would you write one for me
of the shells and sliding sand?
All I see is horizon
releasing the moon
from a European land.
Behind in the east there's
a whisper so slight from a
place of seedling sun:
"Why do you stand at
the brink of night with dreams
that may not come"?
"Count on my light
of daily routine,
obvious, safe, in tune."
I can't; I can't; there's
more to be had from
the place of the rising moon.
I was born in the
gloaming of ocean surf
at the brink of my dreams
at the edge of the earth.
©Kathryn McLoughlin Collins
January 8, 2013
Copyright © Kathryn Collins | Year Posted 2013
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