Driftwood

Across the distance
He could hear
The eager rush of the waves
Nearing the fingertips of the shore
“We’ll get there, we’ll get there,
We’re finally getting there.”
Drunk with the charm
Of a promising current
As their wishful hubbub
Turn into multiple,
Successive howls
Hushed to stillness
Drawn back to rest as
Part of the endless ocean
Over
and over
Again.
How tragic,
How sorrowful,
How remarkably beautiful.

On most days
He’d catch the others saying,
“It’s that time again
The sun’s kissing the horizon,”
Like it’s what makes the sea salty
Or what sets the currents going.
“How beautiful,
How romantic,”
How infinitely meaningless.


Words by: Cherry Rose Guillermo Copyright © 2017 Petrichors and Metaphors

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Cherry Rose Guillermo

I don't care who you are; if you're kind, you're beautiful. ^^

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