for my friend

The slow ache
The sharp cut
The warm release of past
The memory, the spotted mind
The spotted shoulder of shadowed time.

I dont know how or when or not
Or if indeed it ever was
I wish the past was a tangible place
To be revisited
Revised
Relived
Reviewed

It's not nothing, it never was
It's not for anyone but for them.
A cry for dawn , for sunsets past

For memories that sting

Sting like salt from the oceans tide
The oceans waves that wash away
They smooth the rock and collect the sky. They reflect the golds and hues of pink. They blend yesterday into now.

The waves they wash but they never dull
They just come. Relentless, persistent, unaware.
Real only to me
They just reapproach. Disorganized, heavy, but quick.

I do not walk by the sea.
I do not hold my breath.
But the waves they find me.

I am still And I will wait.