Wet

It's raining outside and still. When I was in my twenties and couldn't sleep I would write down things that were on my mind. Some were poems, Some were just thoughts. I was much more artistic then. I was thumbing through a drawer this morning and I found my book called Footprints in the sand. This is just a folder full of my writings. I thought it would be nice to share one with you. It's called Mirage.

As the sun beats against the cold weary ocean, I sense the warmth fallen upon the open water.
The waves ripple across the beach covering glittering sea shells on the salty pacific shore.
Innocent footprints of a playful child soon disappear in the sand.
Flashbacks of old acquaintenses appear in a dream, but soon disappear with the powerful tide.
Tears of solitude resemble raindrops on the wet surface.
All is quiet; all is still.
All that is to be seen are gray clouds desending on this mystical mirage.