Where the sea forgets to breathe

Bring me to the beach tomorrow,

where the sea forgets to breathe.

In all the darkness, there you are,

Singing a lullaby to the treasure thieves.

 

It isn’t then that I lose myself,

It is after, it is before.

It is all of the between.

 

It is there when I see the glaring guardian of the sky

finding those who pretend to be lost –

Akin to when this person is happy in the old-fashioned model.

Travelling through waves,

seeing time doing what it does best,

breathing,

Curragh style.

By: Naomi, Age 26, Wicklow

poetry Image: