Mezzanine

Warm hand upon my back,
As beneath my arms,
Upon which my head rests,
The emery board granite sits,
Sprayed, as I, by gusts of sea,
Mingled, lost, in the tears upon my face.

Pretty bird, small, hops on,
White painted panels,
Of a holiday shack,
By our promenade.
Light blue surrounds my bird;
Towels and flags, deck chair fabric.
Hopping little creature,
In a sea of its own.

Hide and seek played in,
Great woods of pine,
and bracken. Tall, and gone.
We never meant for it to end.
An endless time, joyful,
Spent together in love.

Crashing, cliche, but true,
Breakers crash on the wall.
Shore submerged, sinking,
and suffocated below.
Else the wind gusts, no respite,
Cold, but needed.

Held in but one hand,
I squeezed and squeezed,
Pressing nails into skin,
Leaving marks upon palm,
That would die off only hours later.
The bird died quicker.

Blue tit, great tit, wagtail,
I can’t decide.
Whichever one, it was not wise,
For now, I have nothing left,
But memories of those shifting sands,
And lies.

 

 

Proooobably Piano is Evil, if I remember rightly.

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