I speak to the ocean, whispering.
“You wish to mingle your salts with mine”
I will not settle in the remnants
Of this damp, this room of dreams
A homage to endeavour and decay
This will not be my way home.
Instead, I will sing sweet as a lark
Over meadows far from the sea
And see the salt tears sit
In the corners of your eyes
Knowing I’m free … at last.
©️ david fry March 3rd 2019.