You sit on the embankment
Eyes of blue stare out
Waiting for your cynosure
Grains of sand
In their rough caress
They rub your fingers raw
Your every sinew
Longs for a caring touch
But none prevails
Not from the cold ocean wind, nor
From the lady of the pelagic
A desire so organic
It’s left you rejected
A once shining spoon, now
Rusting on the waters edge
Much worse than salt in the wound.
~
Loved the words for this weeks Wordle from Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie! We are given twelve words and are asked to use 10 of them in a poem or story. I’ve bolded the ones I used, and ended up using them all this week 🙂
A. E. Bratchford 
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