{ CREATIONS }

Letters to those who can relate.

{ we're all pawns living in this horrendous world of ours }

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4. { O U R L A K E }

To the one who dreams about lakes,

 

I hear the sound of the waves crashing along the shoreline, 

Their hands reaching to greet our bare feet before departing.

 

I hear the laughter of the pair, 

As they run along the shore together towards the horizon.

 

I hear the cry of the birds, 

As each and every one of them fly farther and farther away from here. 

 

I can feel the sun that's millions of miles away, Beating down on our skin and reminiscing on bundles of memories.

 

I can feel the sand that lay beneath us, 

The particles creating a peculiar warming embrace. 

 

I can feel your hand, 

That I must've memorized forward and backward, 

Drift farther and farther away as your said good-bye to the waves. 

 

I can see the horizons exploding with different colors, 

As the sun said it's good-bye to the sea. 

 

I can feel the warm pavement under our bare feet,

As we walked out separate ways. 

 

I can see the red tail lights of your beat up Jeep, 

As you drove away from our lake.

 

m.

 

{ published 7/1/17}

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