christmas eve

the winters wind in wakefield

whispered in my ears

as my best friend and i walked

up and down the rocky beach.

pink is my favorite color,

so we picked up all the rose rocks

we could find.

we stood over the stones

admiring their marbled complexions.

the beach was empty–

save for a lonely young girl and a strange man–

so we wandered towards the

seaside cottages.

the abandoned huts stood on

wooden beams, holding them strong.

many of the windows were boarded up

with “for sale” signs

and I recalled my childhood


of living by the sea.

my friend and i collected nine rocks that day.

-in rhode island, i felt alive again.


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