Port Angeles

The sand is wet.  It rained last night.  Now, morning's come
In suffocating gray, the sky, the sea, the shore.  I throw more
Wood onto my fire, stare out at the tossing water.  Such days
Banish satisfaction, but they also quash desire.  Three years,
She meant something to me, but she does no more.



Poetry by Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 63 times
Written on 2017-10-16 at 13:48

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