The Third Person
Step aside,slightly,
from a beach beside
cold moving water.
A sighting in rain,
hooked on a line,
empty as a fallen bell,
an open window, opaque.
If I am distant to myself
I am lost, aware
of room, the soft crunch of shingle.
Steps of a known stranger, a shell.
Copyright © Leslie Philibert | Year Posted 2016
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