There is something out there
an echo on the airwaves
from the birds sitting
on the telephone wires.
I hear it in my head thrumming low,
sleepless again on a warm night in June.
Waves crash against the harbour,
over streets and up windy lanes.
Just another cryptic dreamer
lost to the sand dunes in the mind.
But it could be the only thing you’ll
think of, the only thing you’ll know.
Linking up with the new dversepoets pub today! Make mine a double..