San Diego
Learn more about other poetry terms
Sand at my feet,
pocket full of brocken shells,
each wave a rythm to a different beat;
This is what life could be.
The sand the wave the sea.
How far is my reach, from here on the beach?
I’m going to tell you something, a story of when I was just an adolescent
Not quite a child, nor a man, but the desire to be one was present
In my soul, I was thirsting, wanting to be accepted
Sparks ignite
The arid fields
And childhood memories
A glow
Hangs like hell above
Bathed in warm light
Flames climb
The walls of the house
In which we once slept
Hopes
