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  • Writer's pictureTony Frobisher

The Sea Wastes

The Sea Wastes

The greyscale and pallid skies Pitifully stared upon the sea wastes. Turbulent, unending and saddened calls Wave upon mournful wave collapsing Onto a silent shore, bereft and lifeless. Where single cries absorbed to shingle memory.

The laughing gulls patrolled the windswept seafront, Mocking the silence, piercing the sea memories. Oh happy shores! When sunlight was warmth And life. And the waves were an infinite pleasure. Not each wave that endlessly broke, a countdown to sadness. Had we known, we would have stayed longer.

And were those now waves of sympathy? Did each approaching wave curl and crash To send the salt spray to mingle with today's tears? Did the sea conjure the chill winds To penentrate bones and numb the pain, That ebbs and flows in daily tides?

If only the sea wastes were of use once more. Not only saddened waves and constant grey skies Not only the suffocating winds and plaintive gulls. Not only memories and forgotten footsteps Not only a time before and a presence past. If only the sea wastes again teemed with life.

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