Cinnamon coloured slingbacks dangle from her fingers, <br />as she searches the tide line for discarded gems. <br />A warm steady breeze whispers somewhere offshore, <br />but she turns her head in fear of sandy eyes. <br /> <br />Years of leaning over crumbling crenelations <br />make it hard to hold on to all experienced there. <br />In desperate yearning, eyes forward and down looking, <br />she misses the footsteps that trail away behind.. <br /> <br />Hoping for a message from a newly discovered bottle, <br />but, the only bottles here were cast there by her hand. <br />The verses once inside had lines that knew no score, <br />and the all important labels soaked off long ago. <br /> <br />Bending to dip her fingers, hair hitched behind her ear, <br />the wind has a glimpse of beauty hidden inside. <br />She cools her blistered fingers and walks on firmer sand, <br />she knows this place is empty, but feels safe here on her own. <br /> <br />Rope tricks and lighthouses offered with every tide, <br />no place yet she wants to visit or to call her home, <br />she cannot see the treasure she’s had there all the time, <br />if she’d only turn and lift her head and learn to trust again.<br /><br />Sailing to windward<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/rope-tricks-and-lighthouses/
