Back Stoke

Words

cannot say what I feel,

liquid emotions

are only streams of deeper

rivers that lay beneath fear.

Alone

I drown

not wanting to surface

to the crest,

floating adrift in currents

that change with subdues winds.

Rescue?

You tried

but in the end

I missed the beacon

that shined

when you closed the window

of hope.

It may have been the end

of  illusions,

yours and mine,

drifting

answers will we ever find?

Can you hear the sea gull cries

or the wind blowing whirls across time?

Can you feel the sand beneath your toes

as you walk back to the path you chose?

If only

I had taken the swimming lessons

of  yesterdays mistakes

I would have seen hands

reaching above the wakes.

If only