In a whitewashed cottage by the sea
for maybe one or two or three
I won’t see you....it’ll just be me.
I know you couldn’t meet me there
I’ll sift through the sand; I’ll taste the salty air.
You won’t be there.
It’ll be okay, I half-heartedly say
I feel so far away.
Perhaps another day.
You’ll come back this way again
I missed seeing your brothers, the men
That carried you to your grave, half-past ten.
by Brandi Chambless
April 12, 2011
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