Cold Atlantic

 

The wind whips up the sand

to sting the face and hands,

somewhere between

the cliffs

and the sea.

The crash of waves,

the seagull’s call,

nothing much left at all,

but the morning

is serene.

 

Put aside

the time

that got us here.

No good looking

in the rearview mirror.

Here we are

at the end.

Won’t do us any good

to pretend

that there’s anything left

to defend;

we played a strong offence.

 

Said it all on the road.

Took a little to unload,

but now I understand;

you needed more than I had.

These things are hard to admit.

Drive so far to get away from it.

Out here on the edge of the world,

I think I found the words

that you deserve.

 

Is it so hard

to leave it all behind?

To put aside my foolish pride?

Watching the Sun rise

over the cold Atlantic.

I speak into the wind

and you hear me,

clearly.

 

My heart breaks upon the shore.

The world won’t be the same, anymore.

Turn around

and walk back to the car.

It seems the edge of the world

isn’t very far,

given where we are.

 

 

HG – 2021

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