Sunday nights, by n.smith

My mind walks along a crescent-lit beach
all alone.
Waves colliding with the open sea
My thoughts colliding with my closed heart
Rarely do others see the two meet
But when they do it seems the
waters part.
The silence calms.
The air at rest.
Collecting moments from the week
that's past.
Peacefully afloat in cool, open waters
Dropping my anchor, hoping to avoid the harbor
Grasping onto whitecaps, relinquishing undertows
My words captured in the serene,
deep brilliance
that is the sea.
that
is
me.