Salt tears
The wind picks up across Small Bay,
it whips the sand against my face.
The kitesurfers in bright array
are carving lines through salty space.
A crowd of families line the shore,
their children's shouts like distant bells,
while Table Mountain, ancient core,
stands watch above the crashing swells.
I watch the bathers, brave and bold,
who dive into the icy deep.
I join them in the biting cold,
but feel my spirit's heavy sleep.
I plunge beneath the frothy white,
just going through the motions there.
A ghost beneath the surface light,
with salt crust tangled in my eyes and hair.
I slowly walk across the cooling sand,
the Western sky a fiery bloom;
To join the others on the strand,
and dispel this encroaching gloom.
But as I reach to touch a hand,
my fingers pass through vacancy;
The bay is still, the water's grand,
and I am all that's left of me.
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
