Thursday, June 12, 2008

he wrote-

he wrote in the soft, warm, golden sand-
laughing youths smashed the words with their vigor and joy.
he wrote in the cool, moist grey mud-
lapping waves smeared the words slowly and meticulously.
he wrote in the consistent shimmering surf-
water pulsed in and around and held nothing.
he wrote in the dry, frigid air-
whispering winds breathed away the letters.
he wrote in his head-
engraved in the grey matter the story stayed.

2 comments:

-evan said...

alternate last line:

everyday noises and thoughts concealed it in memory.

Anonymous said...

I like this one...the idea that words can never completely capture and sustain an idea or feeling that you experience.