And when we’re nearly ninety-nine

Fading, yet certain of our fate and the love it made with us

Green still, relatively so

We’ll walk, treasuring the sands, the time

The Bend

Was the water as fine a host as your story told? The global position as true? It has been some time, and I’ve navigated North somewhat, bring me back.

What shifting of the ground beneath your feet? What compromise refused? Oft’ the sands of time serve us, some act as cogs, and some as polish.

Seek with me a patient balance. Find the urgent, too. May it be our paths have merged, when this day ends, when ‘morrow comes.


NOW COMES the Respondent, another wave in the tide

A meritless crash upon an innocent shore

Another Excuse lacking an answer

Forcing me to question my sun and my senses

Allege a wrongdoing, a heartbreak, a theft

And cry a toddler’s tantrum as the sand swallows then recedes from my feet