To the Sea

Innate strength is hidden beneath
her delicate features,
forged in fires of relentless stress,
also, and always, hidden.

Shoes polished to a shine.

If only spared a glance, one could
consider her appearance bland,
until she smiled
and the full spectrum would shine
from her face.

Perfect crease in my trousers.

The power to rejuvenate
in her touch.
Gentle, reassuring and knowing,
yet firm, strong and in control.

Button up my last starched shirt.

She was reluctant in her leaving,
knowing there would be
a space to fill,
a void in the fabric of life.

Brush the lint from my overcoat.

Sometimes hope and faith
and power of will are not enough,
prayer provides no cure
and the disease runs rampant.

Lock the door behind me.

There were no tears on that final
day — against her nature in every way —
she smiled, stroked my hand
and talked of our
times at the shore.

Secure my hat, head for the coast.

English: The road to the sea

For The Sunday Whirl wordle

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7 Comments

Filed under Poetry, Poetry - Prompts

7 responses to “To the Sea

  1. I didn’t recognise the wordle words, so cleverly have you led me on.

  2. Lovely, measured sadness… last starched shirt. Excellent.

  3. The italicised lines were so deliciously distracting. Liked!

  4. I agree with Irene, Mark, the italicised lines work very nicely in this. Well done descriptive write.

    Pamela

  5. A void in the fabric of life… says it all. Very sad to part, but a lovely poem.

  6. Thank you for your visit to my non-story verse. I could not find you in Mr. Linky – and I didn’t think to look for you on the Wordlers list – so I just looked you up…and I am glad I did. There are many scenarios I think that can fit this verse. The one closest to me is when my sister did just that…left from the west and settled on the east coast. It doesn’t always have to take a content to divide us and the ones we love. This is a sensitive piece I enjoyed reading.

  7. This is one of my favourite ways to structure a poem. There is so much that can be played with, so much said and done, in a few words.

Some of what I write is true, some is fiction; most is merely possibility.

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