Monday, April 19, 2010

Desert Tales: Sandy Porches

When the tide rolls in,
I'll save myself, before I save you,
it's why I ran away,
but when I see your face,
memories of home,
slowly sway to and fro,
how we sat holding hands,
looking secretly, up past the trees,
from the only safe source,
that is your sandy porch,

the past tends to haunt,
in waves of twos and threes,
don't get drowned,
in the past-tense sea,

I wish I wasn't a fool to treat you like that,
now come back to what we know,
loving you was never a doubting fact.

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