The Woman Who Lived By The Sea

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
About the sadness of old age.

Submitted: December 02, 2007

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Submitted: December 02, 2007



Rock, rock, rock goes the chair,
Whistles of a sea breeze lost
Entangle the cobwebs of her silk embossed hair.
As if sewn with frost,
Her lips are sealed shut,
So all smiles are closed,
And she counts each hut, by hut, by hut,
Until their colourless rainbow rows
Drift off like her past.
Illness they put it down to,
But not once did they ask
Why she casts old troubles into the blue
Expanse that eminates from her head.
Perhaps she would rather forget the dead?

Swish, swish, swish go the waves,
Each as its own finite destiny braves.

Crush, crush, crush on the rocks,
She waits with bated, raspy breath
That disintegrates into the brisk winter air,
For that one, that one that reaches the shore
Alive. That one, that one can never come.
But tomorrow it may

Be better.
So let, let, let her let
Her blood and her waning years pay the debt.

© Copyright 2018 Ben Jacobs. All rights reserved.

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