The Med is not speaking to me.
She rolls in green and muddy waves
Slowly eating at the wall of sand
Reclaiming the space
Medville took away.
The Med is patient.
There is no anger
But a strong
Steady rhythm
Like a heartbeat
Plowing through
Moving mountains
One wet curl at a time.
This is her world
She will do what she will do
We are just pilgrims passing through.
Setting sun on my back
The Med reaches for my shadow
Touches its hair and releases
Some driftwood for my attention.
She is a moody lady.
unbuttoned or undone 
it looks so calm
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It was a much needed pleasant, quiet and calming late afternoon.
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How are you doing friend?
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Finding colors again, but not the music.
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It will take time my dear but someday you will be able to think about it and not lose a tear.
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Can’t wait for that day.
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I really enjoyed the way you go from a universal feeling about the human condition “We are just pilgrims passing through.” to the attention the Med has just for you when she teases you with the “driftwood”, made me smile: she knows how not to take herself too seriously. I see that.
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Thank you Michal. I love the way your mind sees things I had not thought consciously about.
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I use this word a lot after reading your poems: gorgeous.
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You are generous and kind to me. Thanks John.
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You are deserving of all praise.
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🙂 this smiley should be blushing.
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“One wet curl at a time.” brilliant!
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Thanks. Glad you saw that.
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i see you trying to score a little muse time, but lady claims a headache. walk away with indifference, see if she chases 😉
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On it.
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Unlike you, of course. Smiles
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Of course! I am always, even tempered, predictable and never ever wild, over-the-top-drama-queen or moody..
Smiles
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Delightful girl
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Smiling
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Pas surprenant.
Elle est une femme!
Tu crees encore la magie.
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Attention! Tu prends des risques…
Merci. Si j’arrive encore à créer la magie, c’est bien.
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Too good. How do you do it . . .
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Thank you so much.
How do I do it? I listen and tell the story I hear. 🙂 Thank you for following me.
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