Ron’s With Roma
He is gone
To that lone figure
Half blurred in mist,
Around the beach.
Their rods bow
Lines dip tentatively
Into rip and roar,
Dark beyond reach.
They speak silent
In wind fresh squalls
Parched lips touch,
Never a breach.
Loves’ of a life
And looking back
Their ruby sun’s aglow,
Both to each.
They pack and cross
The dunes together
And talk of
A better beach.
poem by Danny Draper
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
