the sands at swansea.

with the smell of the sea tumbling
in the violent breeze, awakening memories
as the morning sun rises to greet the day
i walk

the melodies of wish you were here resonate,
drowning the sound of the surf crashing upon
the beach where we laid, once rejoicing
i walk

the stench of rotting seaweed permeates about,
around, as the last hint of night dissolves
with an apologetic final lingering look,
i walk

the dawn will come and i will walk.

greg

You play this out so elegantly. I felt like tiptoeing through it. Melodic and smooth.
Beautiful.

misty..

G'day again, dear Cousin Greg, and good to see you here on the poetry board, where I spend most of my time hereabouts.

Misty's right about this poem, and she's one of our very best here, so take her word for it.

(Note to Misty: Greg's my cousin from Hobart, Tasmania, Australia! I'm so happy he's here now!)

Welcome to the poetry board, mate. I look forward to hearing a great deal from you. Soon everyone here will know what I have known for years, that you are a most refreshing and utterly unique poet, as well as the finest cousin another poet could ever have.

Cheers and love,

+Cousin Stevie