PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

Each night my soul leaves me.

While it rolls out like the tide.

My body imagines a place to wander.

To some place of safe harbor.

Then my mind goes floating in the bay.

Until I sink like an anchor below into a sea of exile.

On some nights, I remember I just drain away.

On others, I bob among piers.

Without a sufficient moon, the Atlantic speaks to me.

She draws a curtain of waves behind her.

There I crest out over her dunes.