beloved funeral march.

From atop the rock jetties,
each wave beckons
a brisker breeze,
and the goosebumps mirror
thirsty barnacles,
clinging to the remnants
of an adolescent solstice.
It’s coming.
My beloved funeral march.
From farther away,
the crashing, churning,
may sound gentle as
rustling leaves,
but I perch amidst and
wait calmly for the reaping.

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3 thoughts on “beloved funeral march.

  1. Some rivers forge and rush on their seemingly separate courses, but find their way to the same ultimate ocean. I Love You Fountains. See you in Elysium. DS

      1. I’ll try to stop by here more often my dear friend. It is always a quiet refuge where suddenly things are once more recognizable in an otherwise indecipherable world.

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