Beach road diaries – 1: fish out of water

How do I take this as real?

Why should I write when I’m caught on a reel

I feel strung along

hated for my true song

loved for someone I am not

I’m just a gal in the world

wanting to write about

the great pink hydrangeas

flowering strange and conical in the rising fall

cultivated perfectly

in someone else’s local

wonderland.

But I’m drugged with yearning

ever reeled in by beauty

and then un-learning

Tasting the edge-hedge

The maze-laurel’s blue-black berries

only to realize they’re meant for flying

creatures

and not for me at all.

So every sentence I mean to write

hardly ever gets written

It’s like I’m in a constant state ofΒ wingless

wonderfall

while all I ever crave

is landing

.

.

.

8 thoughts on “Beach road diaries – 1: fish out of water

    1. Your comment is like a beautiful flower in this lost-feeling wilderness of words. You must have a green thumb. Thank you so very much. πŸ™πŸŒ·πŸ’›πŸŒΏ

      Like

    1. You just help save my blogging day, or this moment of it, anyway… wow… I am honoured and amazed… I don’t really know how to accept this… but just thank you so much, Marie. Truly. It’s very kind. πŸ’–πŸ™

      Liked by 1 person

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