Emmie Readman
The stony weight of your words
you found whilst scouring the shore-
their worth you’re only just learning,
turning each one of them over,
heeding their shape and their hue
until, hesitantly content, you contemplate
daring to throw them into waves
-dreading the ripples, the
oscillating of a surface you wanted
to keep smooth, letting currents move
beneath, undetected.
In the strength of a turning tide
you consider anonymous depths,
wide-eyed and smiling at the new found
breadth of reach- the distance those
stony words, once weighted, can travel.
You stand at the strand line,
your sigh echoing the surf which
beckons your feet-
your arm lifts, your hand poised
to write ripples.
You throw.
