I hold memories of you
like a wave-worn rock
nestled in my pocket

reaching in, my fingers
float along your soft edges
/the gentle curves of who you were
/who I remember you to be
/who we once were

I feel your weight
a whispering touch, I cradle that ache again
/the fervent ache to have you
/reach back
/to me

but I’m just one more wave, aren’t I?
swirling and foaming and churning
trying so hard to capture you

vainly, I cast my net to surround you but
you move right past my fingertips

again and again I try
slipping, frothing, hoping
I could be the one to carry you

no, no, instead I’m the one who
brushes off grains of you
smoothes, polishes
cherishes, every speck

mixing bits of you, treasured
here, inside my heart

tara caribou | ©2019-2021 revised

55 Comments on “Erosion

  1. Huh. This was an interesting thematic direction. Not only the beautifully put imagery of the wave trying to hold onto the well-polished, well-rounded stone but the cause of its erosion, its slickness, the reason why it slips from the “hands” of the “wave” is how well-rounded it is… so the erosion that made the stone the smooth, polished stone that it is, also causes it to slip through.

    Mind = blown.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Beautifully penned, Tara. The image of the wave-worn rock in your pocket is lovely and powerful. Love poems about the ocean and unrequited love. Great work!

    Liked by 1 person

  3. Even more powerful on a second reading, Tara! We never truly value what we have until they slip through our fingers. Best to treasure them before they’re lost forever.

    Liked by 1 person

  4. OMG! I love this Tara! This is so emotionally compelling and moving! Loved the visual images you penned – Especially loved these lines:
    I hold memories of you
    like a wave-worn rock
    nestled in my pocket

    Like a touchstone! Brilliant! The only thing that would make this “Perfect” would be you recording an audio to go with the words so we can close our eyes and listen to you recite them with waves and seagulls in the background – Please? Why don’t record a sample of you reading this and the close your eyes and listen and you will know why I’m asking, My Dear!!

    Liked by 1 person

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Robert Charboneau.

Writer and Artist

living document

a collection of short poetry from an autistic mind

Anonymously Hal

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