Be my valentine

Stuck in a deep hole

I can’t carve your name

In sand as dry as a desert.

The hole has swallowed my sadness,

And now I’m stuck.

Half way up the beach,

Waiting for the tide to return.

And wash me out

Of this dark and

Overwhelmingly bleak place.

Taking tiny pleasures

From the stillness

Of conceited isolation.

© Ester Spears