Rough shards wave the shore,
she pounds a fist on the ground
and thinks of how things were.
Run to the wash of salt water,
soaking tiny feet, too scared
to trample further.
The waves swallowed her whole.
The night white ran
against silver as the moon contests
against foam. Clams sucked
away in the current
gazed at her with fear.
Water drowns their sediment holes
every time without a tear.
With homes so distant,
easily destroyed,
how could anyone stay long?
She sought to plant them in the dunes
where sunsets dye the air pink
and dark never truly comes.
She wouldn’t be back,
life dies in its days of midnight fear.
As she wades the deserted sand-moore,
she spies none of the dreams
she spied before.
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