Drifting Thoughts
What sonnets drip from pens and lonely lips,
where from a heart a painful memory sighs,
and lurks within a lyric's hidden scripts
that float on melodies where silence cries.
Tempestuous, its fickle echoes swell,
much like the waves that sweep from sea to shore,
and offer only seconds 'tween to dwell
before the tides again upon me pour.
Yet life, this life, must pass without regret,
and I must not lament what might have been;
the luffing trim of sail cannot forget
that gentle winds will visit once again.
It's there on summer shores they'll come a day
- like sands await the tide...I'll wash away.
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