i miss the ocean

most

when birds flock high
like clouds
spilling over
rivers
to waterfalls

their ancient calls

the soft move left
and right
bound by lines
by curves
but not by winds

not by turn
not by spin
not by knots
not by pen;

so when sleep comes slow

she invades
for i am host
of all dreams.
then
i miss the coast,
the ocean wind

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s