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Of course, there would be traces
of passers
lost on the dunes,
one we cannot always be with on their own
but they would have come, and would
have gone and now I would be alone
with the sky and promises
of thunderstorms
in the cold sand of May.
Abel Tasman park, November 2021, South Island, New Zealand, Sylvie GE
we were humming together
and you thought it beautiful
and the letters of the words
they brushed against the skin
but the strange feelings
that make the heart heavy drawn in
broad lines in the sand
would disappear with the evening tide
then holding hands
we walked slowly
there was only the truth
at the end of the path.
My poetic journey through words and image/ Mon journal poetique a travers les mots et les images
