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Seagulls
On a stump of a pier piling over shallow water in Tika sits
Little boy full of tears that the sand gulps like the tide
Waves lap his feet as a puppy licks a face from the tips
Of his toes to the very end of his wounded pride
The rays of his sun paint wet cheeks with camoflage from
The dry air left behind that pretty girl walking down the beach
Now the music from seagulls sings him into a reverie as they hum
Ever-widening spirals winging just out of his grasping reach
His voice cries out love that he has for a dream maid
Who laughed at his young advances and left him at the bottom world
He dries his face as the sun sets over the departing day the seagulls laid
In the night he counts the stars with which the lonely sky is pearled
