Waves, cold and colourless,
redouble efforts against
shoreline rocks at my feet.

Ripples of effect reach
for sodden shoes again
and again with success.

To break this still
and secret moment would require
the shiver to leave my spine
and a miracle:

Perhaps, bubbling to the surface,
a floating cinderblock
that mocks gravity
quite unlike the grey weight
tied, with much effort,
to the swollen ankle of my sinking hitch-hiker.

A length of rope pulls him to his rest
that I might have mine
after deciding he was a liar
despite all floating rumors
that precede his fame.

No more than a conversation long past.

Claim that holds me here
to feel the ripples of effect
and witness his vanishing form
along with my hope
beyond cold and colourless waves.

Want to comment on this Poetry? Sign up to Edit Red and you will be able to comment on Poetry and get access to: Upload your own stories and poems, get readers and their feedback, promote your work...