been here too long.
too many
years
have passed in this same
house
at the ocean.
the sand
is in everything.
all
is salt
and wind, brine from
the relentless sea.
my skin has hardened,
weathered.
what once
was beauty
has now turned on me.
my eyes have
paled,
less blue now, less green.
i need
the inland,
the forest of trees.
the quiet,
i long for a gull
free morning.
i don't want to see a new
blue storm
rising across the curve
of the watery
earth.
it's time to flee.
i need grass under my feet.
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