Love Sonnet XXVII

....oh those crashing waves

Love Sonnet XXVII

 

 

In the time of Neruda, he spoke

of La Isla Negra, where

sand got into everything, and

a coconut breeze scented your

 

hair. I walked these sands,

hand in hand with you as we

laughed at receding waves

and Terns running helter-

 

skelter everywhere, awking at

our intrusion. But, their language,

while loud and filled with

 

anger, was no match for

the clash of waves, dashing

our love on those rocky shores.

 

Aztec Warrior / redzone 12.30.2024

Author's Note

....thanks for reading. Sometimes the music is the prequel...