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Driftwood Heart |
I've walked along the beach,
picking up scraps of driftwood
for house decorations.
I think of you because
the pulse of waves up the sand
is your rhythm.
My heart is driftwood, too,
since you left me on the shore of life,
graying and bleached by sun.
The steady heat of waves of work
cover up the fragile driftwood heart
that can't find rest
on the labyrinth shore.
copyright 2005
Ursula T.
Gibson |
