My feet in the sand.
The shoreline
Of a beach,
Glass bottles,
And rock worn
Edges.
Contemptuous gaze
And an air ward sigh.
My thoughts consumed
by
weekend recitations.
Such high hopes
This time.
Years of trying
And finally a get away.
New York City
and love.
Yet
one is attained,
The other lost.
Coarse sand grain fists
Become open palms,
As a smooth sea shell
Drops from my hand.
Head shaking desperation.
How easily
It slips away.
Copyright (c) David DeSantis
David DeSantis
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-trip/
