Waves angry,
Washed ashore bottles, and slippers, and toys, and weeds
What delight to see them come here?
Who could have owned these washed up things?
That was of long ago
When other areas were terribly far
And far meant messages sent were received for the next 2-3
days
Where mails were a delight, and not too slow
Now these washed up things meant somebody’s terrible loss.
Not that story of a little boy losing his slipper in the sea
Decided to throw the other one hoping for someone to find
all two
There is no little boy who owns these washed up things.
These washed up things are not my delight no more.
These washed up things are memories
Memories crying in the dark; wet and cannot breath.
***
For the little girl who takes delight in washed up things after every storm, and for the big girl who remembers that little girl.
#Haiyan#Yolanda