Castaway

The things I forget are simple. Not your face,
Or the color of your eyes (blue, with hints
Of grey and gold, like the sea at dawn.)

I forget the sound of birds marking the dawn,
the taste of salt, the touch of sun on my face.
I forget the shape of us. You left me only hints:

The tree outside my window that hints
of tangled limbs; the deep shadows at dawn;
the clouds that hide the moon’s face.

I face the sea, scour it for hints of you. Dawn is just a simple thing.


A gauntlet was thrown among the YeahWrite editors: it’s a tritina slam this week! Check out the other entries on the fiction|poetry grid. (Click the badge below.)

19 responses to “Castaway

  1. Your love poetry is so elegant, so full of longing. It’s always so lush.

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  2. I wondered what sort of poem you would write from poolside. 🙂 I feel it here.

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  3. Oops! Saw Asha’s comment and forgot whose I was commenting on. But this did have a feel of being seaside.

    Liked by 1 person

  4. Loved your poetry, Christine! I wish I could write that way..to express similar feelings I keep hidden in a closet in my heart!

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  5. I liked the theme of simple – simple things, simple images. Of course, the third stanza shows how you can make something simple so beautiful.

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  6. I love that this is both simple and profound. I really enjoyed how you wove the word “hints” into every stanza.

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  7. The contrast you made between these detailed descriptions of dawn and that last line made for a cymbal-crash of an ending.

    Liked by 1 person

  8. You are so perfect at this, it’s intimidating! Beautiful, as always.

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  9. I agree — loveliness in every line. *Mwah*

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  10. This made me feel like I was standing on a beach with the sun coming up, missing someone. Lovely.

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  11. Ah, there’s that music again. It’s always music that I hear when I read your work. Were you, perchance trained as an instrumentalist or singer of some sort? As a child, maybe? LOVE it.

    Liked by 1 person

  12. ughh, Christine, you are amazing! All the time. Loved how effortless you make tritinas seem. And how your words always make me sway in a rhythm of your making.

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