Low Tide, Mersehead

Low Tide, Mersehead.
 
 The sea has left
 Only its taste.
 Salt in the air,
 Caked-dry lips.
 
The tide has gone,                                                                                                                                                          beyond reach,
Beyond sight,
A soundless distance.
 
 All we have
 Is the wide promise
 Of a return,
 Another beginning.
 
 
 Derek Ross.
 

6 thoughts on “Low Tide, Mersehead

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