World Poetry Day

In celebration of World Poetry Day, I return to former altar ruins. Here is something I wrote when I was 17. Oh to be young and hopeless πŸ™‚


It was on a warm August afternoon
That a drop of my ocean trickled
Into your lips. You asked me
How it was that my salt water
Tasted like pain.
I did not know.

I had been abandoned on this shore for far too long

But you
Your eyes are bright
You are what you always were:
A son of bliss
A sky, sometimes downcast
Often cloudless
And the only way to dance with you
Is to fly upwards

You are the serene sky that
Watches over
My stormy seas

And between us
Is the rain