adventures in dysthymia

Friday, December 03, 2010

TIDES

The tides of the heart
follow no phases
of the moon, no
calendar of spring
and neap. They run high
when they will.
They leave the pools
of yesterday
to greet the sky,
the sky of stars
and starfish. Seek
with me there,
some night, for both.

Stephen Brooke ©2010

A rather rapidly written poem -- most of it, that is. The first two-and-a-half lines came to me a few days ago and had to wait a bit for the rest to rush to join them.

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