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reality is just a crutch for people who can't handle drugs

Robin Williams   

we watch with sad eyes

as the seagulls fly above us

and the once wicked waves waver 
then flat-line in quiet introspection

the storm has ended - over

but the clouds still linger lofty
grey sheets passing passively
in a dying day

it's this feeling - a memory
and an impulse that returns

alone

she gave up long ago

believed there was no hope

that no one could save her

that no one cared

but weather can be deceiving
sometimes hard to predict - unfair

because when we can't see very far
there remains no signage
no signals

nowhere

and we miss that sliver of sunlight
in the shifting tide




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