This week at Glyn Wilton’s Mixed Music Bag,
he’s asking us to write about a song in which
the title or a line mentions the current month.
Here’s my November artist and her song.
Tag: Longing
Time Won’t Let Me
Written for Thursday Inspiration #302 –
“Right Place, Wrong Time”.
Here’s my inspirational response.
The Water’s Edge
Written for dVerse Poets By The Beautiful Sea.
This is one of my reworked pieces from 2022.
How I long to walk to the water’s edge,
to dip my toes and cool my burning feet.
There are times I think if I could just reach the water
all my pain would wash away.
Where are the days when I skipped along the shore
collecting shells and rocks and starfish?
My body would bake in the brilliant sun as I danced
like a gazelle from one end of the beach to the other.
I’d look back in amazement wondering how I walked that far.
Sometimes I would catch my reflection in the water
and see that young woman, vibrant and alive.
Hair of burnished gold, skin smooth and lustrous,
deeply tanned, and eyes as green as the ocean itself.
I smile at her but she does not smile back.
Perhaps she knows the hurt that lies ahead
and is already grieving.
I desperately want to be free from these chains of pain
but the key has long been buried in the sand.
I reach for it and again it eludes me.
Where is that young, desirable woman? Where did she go?
If you see her walking by the water’s edge, please send her home.
I have much to tell her. My heart is strong and my lust for life
and love has not diminished. Only my muscles fail me.
How I long to walk to the water’s edge, but my tired
and failing limbs will not support me. Oh, how they mock me!
Will someone carry me to the water’s edge?
How I long to walk there once again.
NAR©2022
From Concert for George, this is Sam Brown et al with “Horse To The Water” by George Harrison
All text, graphics and videos are copyright for The Sicilian Storyteller, The Elephant’s Trunk and The Rhythm Section and are not to be used without permission. NAR©2017-present.
TO THE WATER’S EDGE
How I long to walk to the water’s edge,
to dip my toes and cool my burning feet.
There are times I think if I could just reach the water
all my pain would wash away.
Where are the days when I skipped along the shore
collecting shells and rocks and starfish?
My body would bake in the brilliant sun as I danced
like a gazelle from one end of the beach to the other. I’d look back
in amazement wondering how I walked that far.
Sometimes I would catch my reflection in the water
and see that young woman, vibrant and alive.
Hair of burnished gold, skin smooth and lustrous,
deeply tanned, and eyes as green as the ocean itself.
I smile at her but she does not smile back. Perhaps
she knows the hurt that lies ahead and is already grieving.
I desperately want to be free from these chains of pain
but the key has long been buried in the sand. I reach for it
but it eludes me.
Where is that young, desirable woman? Where did she go?
If you see her walking by the water’s edge,
please send her home.
I have much to tell her. My heart is strong and my lust for life
and love has not diminished. Only my muscles fail me.
How I long to walk to the water’s edge,
but my tired and failing limbs will not support me.
Oh, how they mock me!
Will someone carry me to the water’s edge?
How I long to walk there once again.
NAR © 2022
The Elephant's Trunk 