“Wave Wet Sand” by Mike Finn

wave wet sand

 

Wave Wet Sand

I remember poetry.

In my youth it was a tide-driven wave
climbing the beach of my growing mind,
drowning me in meaning.

That tide has long since ebbed.

Yet the sand still stands in ripples
shaped by the slow retreat
of perfectly told truths.

3 thoughts on ““Wave Wet Sand” by Mike Finn

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