Waiting for the Gloom to Lift
By Trevor Sides Posted in Poetry on October 20, 2016 0 Comments 1 min read
From the Archives: The Art of Baseball Previous Through His Eyes Next

The waves break in happy repetition
without regard for temperature or cloud cover
as if they knew their journey
would end here, in a sandy atonement
that never seems to end.
I, and all the others on the boardwalk,
stand guilty before the surf.
I need something more to make me
crest and foam with joy.


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