a few miracles

the gulls sit, guarding nothing,
watching the tide rush out,
hurrying on its way to nowhere,
as I daydream about you:
someone to know,
someone to go to,
someone to hold,
who knows how to love me,
without ever being told;
someone with whom
I can simply be,
and maybe, given enough miracles,
just a few more,
with whom I can grow old.



April 5, 2009.

Copyright © 2009, Ricky A. Pursley. All rights reserved.