You are an angel.
Your shy smile brightens my soul.
You've captured my heart.
--September 11, 1995
Too shy! Too shy!
You and I.
Please, won't somebody tell us why
we pass each other day by day,
and a greeting neither one can say?
Don't need to be told, I already know
we both have trouble with a simple "Hello."
The only thing we do is walk
because neither has the courage to talk.
This is the reason, it answers my "Why?"
Because you and I,
we're both too shy.
--September 26, 1995
The cold water laps gently at my toes,
and the spray dances upon my bare legs.
I feel the cool sand slip away
from beneath my feet as the tide withdraws,
taking my troubles with it.
I dig into the packed, wet sand,
unearthing a small shell.
I bend and pick it up,
tossing it back and forth between my hands.
Cool fingers of the summer sea breeze caress my skin,
sifting gently through my hair with a lover's touch.
The vast heavens is a soft hue of periwinkle blue.
It is awash in a golden pink
near the bright, blazing ball on the water's horizon.
My eyes are drawn to the sea
of sparkling, molten gold, a rippling combination of fire.
Like a choir, the waves lift their voices in greeting,
and the seagulls, wheeling and swooping and diving,
above in their aerial dance, reply.
A small crab skitters across the sand
towards the open arms of the sea.
I watch as it is welcomed by the ocean's liquid embrace.
I gaze at my surroundings.
I am alone,
yet
I am not alone.
Mother Nature is my companion.
I listen to the seagulls, waddling along the water's edge,
bicker with one another.
Numerous toddling specks of white-feathered bodies
occupy the length of the sands.
Their shrill speech echoes down the empty dunes.
I begin to journey down the beach,
scattering the birds as I do so.
They flap and protest angrily at my intrusion.
I kick up sand as I walk along,
uncovering the many treasures
one often finds at the beach: shells, dried seaweed, bits of trash.
I feel slightly chilly
as I wander farther and farther away from the sun's warmth.
The tangy smell of salty water
fill the air like an exotic fragrance.
I inhale deeply, closing my eyes.
When I reopen them,
I gaze back at the setting sun.
Turning towards the ocean,
I cast my little shell away from me.
It glides in the air,
somersaulting and is snatched out of sight
by a fist of salt water.
I gaze once more at the dying light.
As I turn to make my way back up the dunes,
I feel a sense of peaceful serenity come over me.
--May 1996
Poetry
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