A Poem by Shirley Johns
The clouds massed over the bay,
herring gulls and waves, seashells
and drift wood, a few spots of blue
and the wind was soft, a caress,
the way I feel when I’m with you.
The walk along the shore,
stones and gathered glass,
white washed gems and white washed sand
and the wind was soft, a caress,
the way I feel when I hold your hand.
The sun a silver dime falling into the sea,
the birds fussing over something faraway,
a spin of fish too close to shore
and the wind was soft, a caress,
the way I feel when you are at my door.
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