Monday, September 12, 2011

The Sea

Her frantic goodbyes and kisses
Of sunshine hold eyes. She is
A persistent one.

Day or night she hisses and puffs,
Stretches white fingers to climb on

Smooth hard stones, come threatening
Always to abandon the fish for dry

Unknown. What I can't understand is,
Why doesn't she quietly come?

P.S.: Sometimes, a poem comes from fragments of different dreams from a distant past, or from your memories of some old children poems.

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