poem #40

ocean going
We sit on rocks, dangle toes over striped-gray sand.
The water’s always coming in, always going out.
With the ocean so restless, why shouldn’t we be?
I could just as easily be with another,
but eventually I’d come back to you.
You feel that same pull away from me,
then the inevitable tug into my arms.
Ten years together, ten years of such tides.
But some water stays behind, burrows into sand,
laps about the stones, froths in place.
We can dip our fingers in it. The coldness soothes.
A small pond but a page out of our life story:
the stillness, the small circumference,
and yet contentment in the lack of movement,
the manageable horizons that never get away from us.
We love the beach like we love each other,
awed by the oceans but safe in our pools.
 – John Grey
John Grey is an Australian-born poet. His work has recently been published in International Poetry Review, Sanskrit, and the science fiction anthology “Futuredaze.” He also has work upcoming in the Clackamas Literary Review, New Orphic Review, and Nerve Cowboy.
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