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| Sandfest Port A 2009 |
The promises we made last year
have lost the dreams of sea air;
those gulls still feed
on salt-washed seaweed
exposing all we fear.
We never dreamed it near
as we perused the beach fair--
sure we'd succeed
buying red beads
drinking that one last beer.
Testing restraints of your creed
has now left you weak and
broken, you seemed to need
a way to proceed,
while seeking a life unpitied .
Yet you survived, my dear,
with help and tender care.
Warnings to heed,
yet pain has been freed,
gray skies, at last, have cleared.
Day 4 - April - National Poetry Writing Month
If no one else has a name for this I am calling it
the Charade Form - it mirrors the lyrics of that song.
