I wrote this poem at the behest of a future former office mate. A little prodding always gets me to write as if I had a deadline. So here it is, unpolished yet, but with potential.
Notes by the Seawall
What could a sunset mean
at this time in my life,
watching the color that it casts
as a boat crosses
the gleaming coastline?
What thoughts could change me
as I sit listening to a toddler
beside me, gurgling
in French?
I have left everything behind.
I would,
without a second thought,
for a moment like this,
watching the rose-colored
gaze of the sun
slice across
this blank page,
now, no longer blank.
I watch my life
as sunset.
At the end of it all,
no more bustle
and noise
and fury.
Just the gentle
afternoon breeze,
writing by the seawall,
alive, aware and open
to grace.
March 3, 2005
Roxas Blvd.
