I have not written a poem in almost three years. I’m in Panama City Beach right now, but it’s winter and there’s not much to do. And for whatever reason an idea struck me and I wrote something. My long period of writer’s block is finally over! Granted, this poem sucks, and it’s a VERY rough draft, but hey. It’s something.

Whisp

I went to the beach in the wintertime

When it was cool and white

And the locals come out

Without fear of strangers

Stealing long loved spots

With meaning that passerby

Will never know.

I could not point out to you

Those spots with purpose.

Havens have no markers

Save for the whisp of a

Thought

That flashes by when

You realize this is familiar.

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