The Letter
Walking barefoot on the noon shore
Oblivious of the combers
With their new metal detectors
Her head bowed low as if in prayer;
But at a closer look we see
That she is holding a letter.
Her grimaced face stared long at it;
Then dropped it on the glistening
Wet sand and stood there a moment
As the returning salty wave
Washed over its ink scripted words-
Words now lost forever in time.
Its message known only to her
And the blue eternalness sea.
Copyright © Albert Ahearn | Year Posted 2010
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