Sometimes the past screams louder than the present.
Moving back and forth,
Carrying all you bags in the current.
This is not a shipwreck.
The wood, metal, and anchors don’t pull you down.
They are the markers in the corners of your heart.
I answer the call of many tomorrows,
Through the shadows of all the yesterdays.
The sound of your crashing waves echoes,
In the seashell, the empty room, the crowded restaurant.
This is not deja vu, we make a new beginning with each new serenade.