The Disquiet Sea
The truth is,
our history is still beautiful
and in reflection, I was grateful
for your photos and the memory.
It looks as if the sands have narrowed
since those celluloid days,
unless the wind has changed
my perceptions,
along with the storm-laden sea.
It was ochre red and tipped with white;
painted by the rain.
The water pools in the shallows
as though on a palette;
falling to gravity
and the moon’s tidal whims.
There was a quiet revolution
against the evermore blues…
Amongst the raw beauty,
I looked for your reflection.
