Tremble

Sand My Rough Edges Down. Smooth My Knees.

Lars Schlageter from https://pixabay.com | Alterations by David C. Roberson

A soft, aching poem about infatuation’s pull—where the tides reshape the self, and trembling is a victory as long as you stay upright.

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Tremble
03/08/2007
by David C. Roberson

I miss her 
like summer skin 
misses a breeze.

Her sea-glass, 
saltwater eyes,
pull the sands
from my shore,
loosen soft ground
beneath me.

Waves sand 
my rough edges down,
smoothing my knees.
Slick stones
made perfect
and returned
to the beach.

I tremble.
I do not fall.

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