A Poem by Lori Brown Boniciolli




Eight noisy children are crammed into an old yellow station wagon.

Crossing the bridge,

brilliant sun dapples the bay

and gulls circle low spearing fish.  

The wait for hot gritty sand and cold waves is torturous.

Finally reaching the water's edge, we shed our burdens.

The impetus to reach the ocean, fierce now,

propels us forward like rockets.

We dive in with reckless abandon,

little fish in a big pond.

The cold salty water,

clear and pure as a newborn child

is our second home,

where we live and play among the pull of tides,

monarchs of the sea.

© 2016 Lori Brown Boniciolli

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what a great season of life you paint here...i remember, i remember

Posted 1 Year Ago

You refound a "moment" and defined a breath with heart and glistening eyes.

Posted 2 Years Ago

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2 Reviews
Added on April 11, 2016
Last Updated on April 11, 2016