Spirit- Nelson Mongiovi

Your spirit strolls the tideline
surf swallowing its footsteps
as quickly as they are made
Laughter on these shores
has flown to another place
like a slow migration of birds
In my pocket where
fingers find loose change
are shells of broken souls
I walk — in the
winding down hour
alone with the wind

©2013 All rights belong with the Author.


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