Outlines

My childhood friends are words
Written in the sand on the beach
High tide is a vile thing.
"It'll wait for me," I said.
Shells sweep over my words
I can see their outlines
I dash around to trace them
Digging my toe to define
Harder this time.
The sand is saturated
Water fills the outlines
There is nothing left to cling to here-
Though I still wish to write.



copyright M.E. 2011, all rights reserved.