when i find what’s next

the snow starts to fall

and the world sits in a quiet gesture.

move to the shore,

because inland was such a bore.

soundless motion;

seagulls without an ocean.

i dig in the sands

seeking for the words that are such;

blisters on my hands.

dinner table chatting

wine glass cheers clinking,

did i know you this long?

or did i fall in love before

the first hello ever blew onto shore?

and yet, the snow starts to fall

and the world sits in a quiet gesture.

move to the shore,

because finding the inland was such a bore.

 

 

 

c. 2015  bgw