When the turtle's neck peaks back out onto the beach,
to check the tide, if the storm is over;
his relief comes with one long exhale.
He breathes out for as long as he can. One, two, three....thirteen, fourteen...
For even the turtle knows, that the next wash of oxygen will be flooded with memories.
The storm is over.
But his heart is still beating. Himself the same.
And the sea shells he once knew, have been washed away.
No comments:
Post a Comment