And she looked away with the crashing of the waves, that remind me of when she crashed her lips to mine.
Like a private beach I want her to be mine.
But she looked away with the crashing of the waves, the waves that carried me to her, on my lonely nights, and she would hold me with the tyrant waves in the distance that would always carry me away.
For her I would not fight.
The days of shouting over the beach and seefome between our toes--a sight only Aphrodite would dream. But our love strong and true of which Sappho could only write.
The days on our island, though long gone, keep me sleepless just like she once would, but then I needed but rest and hesitated not to waste my time sleeping but rather on her.
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Poetry
Poetrysome poetry new and old, all original but some inspired by the environment around me.
