Echoes

For every movement, for every sound,
There is always an echo...somewhere.
The bikini girl runs along the beach,
Hips swaying...body talk. She knows the boy is there.
She stubs her toe, and her voice cries out...
A faked, wordless cry. Only her eyes flash invitation.
The boy leaps...wide eyed, the girl runs laughing,
Staying but inches from his reach.
The dainty sandpiper stalks the muscular sea.
Eyes downcast, yet taunting, she goes as far as she dares.
But when the sea turns to reach for her, she runs.
Mocking, chirping, staying but inches from its reach.
For every movement, for every sound,
There is always an echo...somewhere.

by Leta Mae Poe

Other poems of LETA MAE POE (2)

Comments (1)

Leta Mae-I like the image of the little sandpipers-reminds me of whiling away the hours at the beach, by the sea, so very far away from me (here in Kansas!) . Keep writing! Phillip