Reflections from Shore

A postcard sits on my cluttered desk,

faded images of waves, a time grotesque.

I watch the horizon blur with the sky,

my feet buried in sand, wondering why.

Years slip between us like grains on a breeze,

a longing for depths that carry me to ease.

But here I stand, landlocked and confined,

a whispering ocean, still unrefined.

The worn-out flip-flop half-buried in gray,

a waiting vessel for feet that won't play.

I hear the roar, the crash of the tides,

but feel only echoes where my heart hides.

Each wave is a promise, a love lost at sea,

a dance I can’t join, just the whisper of me.