Collecting seashells is like taking pictures — you keep picking and looking for more, (taking multiple shots) because you don’t know if that’s the best you’ll get, or maybe there’s another, more beautiful one, still to come. So it is, I think, with love.
Tag: vacation poetry
Waves
I wish the sound of the ocean could drown out the constant ringing in my head. If the ringing was gone, then the only sounds I would hear right now would be: the waves gently crashing on the beach the wind rustling through palm fronds the flip-flop of sandals on the boardwalk katydids singing in…