You went walking upon a storm-tossed sea,
Wondering what had come between you and me.
“I’ve gone to find your imagination!” you bawled,
To prove your point you barefoot trawled.
Thereupon the rocks of this distant shore,
I screamed aloud above the surf’s deafening roar.
But you only waved and walked further on,
Leaving me to fret about what I’d said wrong.
If you were only standing right next to me,
You’d see to what dark depths my mind’s taken me.
I’m afraid of what will come when you never return,
Hollow emptiness in which I will forever yearn.
Now as the storm rises and harries me away,
I beg this seed of hope in my heart to stay.
And whisper to the rising tide’s damnation,
“Prove true, imagination.”
Michael is a husband, father, writer, poet, and aspiring author. He finds time to scribble down his thoughts in the dead of night, between ghosts and night owls. If you’d like to read more of his poetry follow the link here. Or to visit his full blog, ‘The Ink Owl’ click here.