Thanks to Brenda for this week’s Sunday Whirl
Oh how I miss the wind on the sand,
Walking beside you, hand in hand.
The sound of madness echoes,
As the salty waves tease my toes.
A shout to urge forth the memory
Of what was, or yet to be.
Where you are, I cannot yet follow,
This shell remains, open and hollow:
I will hunger for you, boundless
Until the power of my life is soundless.