driftwood

words tumble from my mouth like tears
(catch them as they fall,
a green glass bottle can hold more than messages)
towards the waiting grey sea
roaring, crashing so loudly
that no one catches what I have said

the surf thunders in a milion voices,
each one a different language
sounds melting into a steady drone
(and the words you waited so long
to let free are lost)

sand shivers through my fingers
the crumbled lives of shells and stones
(all reduced to dust)
f a l l i n g
as a bottle-green glass floats away