Going Home

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Sand encrusts my feet
As I walk upon the beach
Each grain is a memory of mine
Sticking between my toes
Clinging to my wrinkled skin
Unwilling to let go

Dirt mixes with the sand
Hiding behind purity
Concealing its imperfections
Not wanting to be seen
Or remembered
By the naked eye

My footprints are pressed
Into this dirt-sand mixture
Stretching miles down the beach
For I have tread this coastline
A great distance
The end of the beach is near

I see the upcoming horizon
With the reds and oranges
Of the lowering sun
Making the sand sparkle
Bidding me farewell
As I plan my exit

One, two, three steps
And I am in the water
Washing away my memories
For they are irrelevant
Where I am headed now
I am going home





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colcona said...
Oct. 22, 2009 at 5:54 pm
I thoroughly enjoyed reading this poem. All the words that you chose to use fit in perfectly, and really caused me to picture walking down a beach. I especially liked when you said,” Sand encrusts my feet as I walk upon the beach each grain is a memory of mine sticking between my toes clinging to my wrinkled skin unwilling to let go.” This makes me think that a person is walking along the shore of a beach, and reflecting about all the memories that he or she has. However, they al... (more »)
 
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