Driftwood on a Beach

below love’s torch drip dreams
of a stranger’s

as forever’s child exploring
the feathers brushed
against her,

it was touch from cute
kid who lived a
ghost town

out at sea, writhing outlines
of our past, spilled
milk on sand,

and in a blink, beauty’s
washed from

my whisper waves
you back
to sea,

just driftwood
on a beach.

Grumpy Gorman

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