A Tide

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
Quit a sad poem, about a sad time.

Submitted: November 12, 2015

A A A | A A A

Submitted: November 12, 2015



She held cockles in her hands,
Still damp from the waters,
And still dusted with sand.

She offered one to me.
I smiled and said my thanks,
And took it from her rouge coloured fingers.

She had cried an ocean with endless depth, 
This I saw in her eyes,
Irritated and rayless.

But she smiled at the horizon,
As her hair was fondled by the wind,
And her brow furred in the light.

With stillness in her soul,
At that moment she forgot,
About her bleeding core,
And her fading soul.

Her breath ceased for a moment,
As nightfall took it away from her lungs.

I stood with a cockle in my hand,
Knuckles raw from cold.
Heart sore from breaking.
Eyes blistered from crying.
Bones aching from bending.

She had not been smiling at the colours of the sunset.

She had been smiling at her last time ever seeing it.

© Copyright 2020 AlanaLouiseMcDermott. All rights reserved.

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