A trio of poems from a recent solo camping trip.
.
Endlessly
The waves reach the shore
as the breath reaches my lungs.
Breathe.
In.
Out.
Rushing away again,
endlessly.
.
Proof
Does the sand feel better as the waves touch its edge?
I know I did,
as your hands soothed my rough edges
until they were
smooth
and seamless, once again.
Your touch was like breathing;
steady, constant proof.
That I was still alive,
still here.
As even and as reliable as the waves.
.
Reaching
As the waves leave the shore,
so the breath leaves my lungs.
Eternally;
Ceaselessly.
Forever returning, reaching for more.
Does it ever stop?
Will it ever stop
reaching?
.
.
Hope this finds you well,
-L
Sight Unseen 