Brushed From The Beach

Waves brushing the pilings
One is left on the beach
No one beside him
On an old chipped log
He's left to imagination
Of days with friends to come

She's sitting at home
Eyes to the window
Her mind in contemplation
Racing between conflicts
24/7 and a friend in town
"Should I've run to the ocean"

Two friends
50 miles apart
Both dreaming
Both wishing
Of a miracle
To brush them from this beach

(©Brian David Smith 1/22/2000)