nearing
white-capped wavesrock moored boats
bobbing out of time
overcast gray water
mirrors threatening skies
rainy wind whistles
back screen door slams
sandy, pitch-speckled soles
softly skid on pine
tiny thrill tickles inside
just knowing
it's you
Poetry by Gretchen Hunter
Read 911 times
Written on 2010-02-05 at 14:15
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