How is the sand that I once lay on? Is it swimming in the Malibu water? Is it flying in the desert wind? How is the sand that I once lay on? How is the water that I first swam in? Is it in the air and stuck in clouds? Is it formed in ice and cold? How is the water that I first swam in? How is the flower that I first grew? Are its petals still growing and falling? Are its roots wrapped around its seed? How is the flower that I first grew? For so long have I been stuck on how I am that I’ve forgotten to ask about the past things in my life. For so long have I been so selfish. But is that wrong? Is my want for joy and healing such a sin? I remember you, sand so soft, water so clear, flower so small. I remember you. Your roots had played the piano keys, your soft sand touched my skin, and your water kissed my neck. You made me laugh, you made me happy... and then we parted. We never said goodbye. You were my joy, but the memory of you brings me pain. So this is my goodbye to you, small flower, soft sand, clear water... Goodbye.



by Anonymous