The Sea and No Promises (Rv. 1)

[danny_]

Revision 1 (Clarified a couple parts. Still open to crit)


The Sea and No Promises

We wind our way through beach towels
and sun-baked bodies
like a vibrant quilt strewn over blinding
white stretches for miles

In short skirts and sunglasses, finer ladies
trot the boardwalk, not dressed for swim,
not interested in messy sand,
but only to be further spoiled, by the view -

the green-apple sea.
You follow me until
our feet begin to sink in the wet;
the sun hot on our backs,
we both dive in.

From a floating laughter we behold
our preoccupied audience,
so colorful and widely spread,
and the climbs beyond -
the great white mountains in the blue.

My eyes return to you,
gently kicking when a wave rolls through
and your toes can't reach the bottom.

You're hard-working,
from a little shanty beyond the dunes,
always salt in your clothes, hair, and skin,
and your father mends his nets outside;

but not today.
The distance a boat can take a man
is the reason for whatever is absent
when you smile,
the reason your laugh is short-lived;

the storms that blow for days and weeks,
the loneliness of an empty home,
his flowers framed in misted window panes
with no promises.

The Sea and No Promises

We wind our way through beach towels
and sun-baked bodies
like a vibrant quilt strewn over blinding
white stretches for miles

In short skirts and sunglasses, finer ladies
trot the boardwalk, not dressed for swim,
not interested in messy sand,
just to be further spoiled by the view -

the green-apple sea.
You follow me until
our feet begin to sink in the wet;
the sun hot on our backs
we both dive in.

From a floating laughter we behold
our preoccupied audience,
so colorful and widely spread,
and the climbs beyond -
the great white mountains in the blue.

My eyes return to you,
gently kicking when your toes can't
reach the bottom.

You're hard-working,
from a little stucco home beyond the dunes,
always salt in your clothes, hair, and skin,
and your father mends his nets outside;

the distance a boat can take a man
is the reason for whatever is absent
when you smile,

the storms that blow for days and weeks,
the loneliness of an empty home,
his flowers framed in misted window panes
with no promises.

---

This isn't deep enough. It doesn't reach into her story far enough to be touching. There are some weak lines. I will have to meditate on the background further and pull stronger images into the ending lines.