If the sea frightens you,
go beachcombing when it’s dark,
roll up your cuffs,
stroll the sands,
listen to the waves break,
feel the comforting ripple
of cold foam on your toes.
And if love scares
you to death, this small
coastal town is just
the thing, everything
in such small proportion,
one tiny main street
with a fudge maker,
a nautical bookstore,
a coffee house with pots
and pans dangling
from the ceiling
and large ferns
tickling your nose.
And if both water and I
arise as one
take the hand we
constantly offer,
shudder yourself into us,
with an occasional kiss
or delicate embrace
of the next wave’s soft tunnel.
Remember,
you can have the ocean
in a drop of salty water.
You can have me
in a footstep right beside you.
John Grey is an Australian poet, US resident, recently published in Midnight Mind, Willow Review, and White Wall Review. His latest books, Bittersweet, Subject Matters, and Between Two Fires are available through Amazon. He has work upcoming in the MacGuffin, Touchstone, and Willow Review.
ManilaLitMag 