Reflections by Richard Merli

The evening tide rushes ashore.
Its fingers fill the pockets of sand.
I whisper that I love you more.
Your fingers fold around my hand.
 
I see the sun rise in your smile,
And love the laughter in your eyes.
Once more, I feel like a child,
Who’s found a small corner of paradise.
 
You hold a conch up to your ear
And listen for mysteries of ancient worlds.
I ask you what it is you hear.
The ancient waves whisper and swirl.
 
You remember the old funhouse glass,
Where we laughed at distortions of your face.
“What do you see now?” you ask.
“My life and all the rest of my days.”

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One thought on “Reflections by Richard Merli

  1. Pingback: The Greenwich Village Literary Review, Spring 2014 Vol. I, No. 1 | The Greenwich Village Literary Review

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