calling of birds…
a childhood beach
with gentle waves engulfing the sand,
like lovers soaking up their desire,
stealing bits and pieces of one another
from their hearts.

as the tide swims in and out
again and again,
the sand lessons in volume and size,
knowing that this is
the inevitable, non-negotiable price
we so often pay for love.
each day,
the sea will cast its pearl onto land,
reciprocating its devotion,
acknowledging companionship,
and ultimately,
paying the price for love.

a lonesome traveler strolls
naked-footed across the beach—
one foot on sand, one in sea foam—
spots the glimmering pearl at their bare feet,
picks it up with admiration,
astounded by the sheer luck!
as the ocean retreats
empty handed,
well,
they toss the white gem back in—
halting the rhythmic flow of reciprocity,
yet—unknowingly—
fostering the cyclical nature
of love.

the sand burns the traveler’s feet,
the ocean tries to pull them in and drown them.
“this is the curse of being human.
this is the price we pay for love.”

the birds call louder than ever before,
praying that the home-wrecker won’t stumble
upon their nests.

Brinn W.

This poem was created and written by Brinn Wallin. Please do not steal or copy without permission. 
*All Rights Reserved*