I lie beside her on the sand,
Watching her breathe---
Watching her breathe---
In ... and ... out. In ... and ... out.
And I try to match her rhythm,
To be in sync with her.
And I try to match her rhythm,
To be in sync with her.
We are alike in many ways.
Our bodies catch the light
And glisten in the sun.
Our bodies catch the light
And glisten in the sun.
We both have wrinkled skin.
It makes me feel so old.
It makes me feel so old.
I wonder just how old she is.
She has a right to be wrinkled,
For she is old, so old.
She has a right to be wrinkled,
For she is old, so old.
The sea.
© Joyce M. Broughton, 1997
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| Sea waves striking a breakwall Photo from Wikimedia Commons |
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