So much I wanted

to say and do.

We walked the beach

to the stilt houses

and beneath them

wondering if they were

starting to lean

and what it would take

to knock them over

and sweep them to sea.

So much I wanted.

The bay was rising

and there was a fire.

I felt the pull of the moon

and the giving way

of legs planted in the

insubstantiality of wet sand.

Love is written at low tide.

Your breath. The sound.

Its tender stirring on my tired skin.

In and out like the waves.

Memories, too, of the old dog

wandering in shadows.



About Ray Sharp

Father, poet, triathlete, local public health planner
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7 Responses to Scituate

  1. Reblogged this on Poesy plus Polemics and commented:
    Poetry doesn’t get much better than this piece by Ray Sharp – elegant simplicity

  2. Pingback: Scituate~by Ray Sharp | OUR POETRY CORNER

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