Port of Call
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Barefoot on a talcum beach,
alone, not lonely,
with the breath of the ocean a caressing balm,
soothing pained memories away,
to the swaying of a solitary palm.
…
Barefoot on a talcum beach,
alone, not lonely,
feeling the brushing away of all past turmoil,
on a quest for solace,
ever so hard to find,
yet comforted by the crashing of the waves,
as the tide cleanses all pain,
and leaves despair far, far behind.
…
Barefoot on a talcum beach,
alone, not lonely,
drenched in a sea-breeze of mist,
that hushes the ache of bygone moons,
tasting the salty tang on my lips,
as the burnished sun,
over the distant horizon,
swoons,
and dips.
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Barefoot on a talcum beach,
alone, not lonely,
searching, ever searching,
for a slice of solitude,
as memory bids a final adieu,
reaching under the sea so vast,
and seeking comfort in the depths,
while embracing,
the tomorrows to come,
wishing that they be true.
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Barefoot on a talcum beach,
alone, not lonely,
seeing my truths drown,
as they slip beneath the turquoise waters,
feeling my heart ablaze,
with a passion that rarely falters.
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Barefoot on a talcum beach,
alone, not lonely,
yet knowing that I am home at long last,
wishing the waves would wash away,
the defences that once stood,
like an impregnable wall.
…
Barefoot on a talcum beach,
alone, not lonely,
I have found, at long last,
my final port of call.
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