Drift
We rescued it from twists of
blue string and orange net.
It was as long as an arm and
as pale as the fog cramped sky.
We laughed as we wrote
our hieroglyphics.
Your name, my name,
expansive and gigantic.
We ran like horses
churning up wet sand.
The pen now a lance
as we jousted and shouted.
We sat hand in hand
as we watched the tide
rub out our names
and swallow them.
Lovely rhythm and sounds, Di. Lovely rhymes, too, and they don’t come in a regular pattern which adds to the charm of the poem.
Maybe after a few days of letting it lie fallow you may want to end the first line of ‘twists’ and the third line on ‘arm’, just for consistency, as the other lines end with nouns or verbs.
Super start!
I wanted to read this more than once – there are lots of pairs in it that work well – and it appeared to become a bit dark/sad at the end for me which was a combination of things. Thanks.