SEA CHAMBER (excerpt).
B2 MICRO POEMS EARLY SUMMER
 



I speak to the ocean, whispering.
“You wish to mingle your salts with mine”
I will not settle in the remnants
Of this damp, this room of dreams
A homage to endeavour and decay
This will not be my way home.
Instead, I will sing sweet as a lark
Over meadows far from the sea
And see the salt tears sit
In the corners of your eyes
Knowing I’m free … at last.

©️ david fry March 3rd 2019.

                              

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