You Can't Bring Home the Tide

Another poem, in the same font even. This I wrote when I was rather bored (and being just a bit lazy) so I don't know if it has much meaning, but I thought it was pretty anyway.

There is wind.

It is on my hair.

Billowing my skirts.

Battering my bare skin.

There is salt.

It is on my tongue.

Encrusting my shoes.

Chapping my bare skin.

Be there cold,

Bitterness to taste,

Flapping of canvas,

Salted week old meat.

I am lone.

Thriving in my song.

Echoing around.

Pulling broken oars.

You touch me,

But the waves hold me.

Sea song encrusted.

Burned in my bones.

I will stay.

For you can’t hold me,

My billowing skirts,

Salt incrusted tongue.