Dusty Roads

I hear the wind clawing through the leaves,

Snapping tiny twigs of memory

Dropped to the waves of a restless tide

Within the restless sea.

Through the night, a breeze I hear

Sound its scratch upon the trees.

Its breath weaves upon the tide,

I sense waves of memory.

Memory is a two-edged sword

Carving notches on my heart,

But it’s not the pain that hurts

Each time the blade ducks and darts.

It is the beach near the sea,

Where dashing gulls spoil the sand,

And knowing this speck of dust

Was in older times a man.

Awake on this empty shore,

My eyes now are rimmed by red.

The wind whittles at my mind.

The sea turns pale and smells dead.

Growing anticipation,

Like white-whirling foam, rose

In my shallow harbor heart,

And with the sun comes and goes -

A rising struggle. Twisting

A tight turn around the spring.

Torrents of flooding passions.

Love has been an empty thing.

It isn’t death I have known,

In this land of fire and toads.

It is thinking of moist eyes

Seeing only dusty roads.