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… .