Alex Thorn

June 21, 2004
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Little Rocks

Thoughts as sweet as candy,

Bitter now, from all I missed,

Like little rocks, soft and sandy,

Grinding into all my shit.

I miss the salty breeze, and rolling waves,

Not this gravel, nor these doling pains.

Guilt grips me with awful fangs,

I forgot to call or text,

Even if you did the same,

If I wanted it, I would try my best,

Instead I read, or write, or play a game.

My mind is occupied with many tasks,

So no, I won’t go out, not even if you ask,

For if I walk upon those dunes,

I will find sand within my shoes.
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