shore. . . .

ah,  the waves

leave me be,  I’m tired – I’m sick of your ways

you reflect a sky that’s about to cry

you add noise to a mind that can’t sleep still

you – a home for creatures small and bright and big –

a vessel of truth,  of lies –

if only I had a boat,  maybe I’d understand your voice more

But as it stands,  I am a man standing 

Here on the shore,  there’s little to do

But to watch the moon change her face

Even I can’t type poetry in the dark… .