The docile grieve sotto voce, thrumming
the sorrows in the shade of a lime tree and drystane dyke.
After all, there’s nothing wrong with being a little awkward,
like a former semi-famous adolescent birdwatcher—
never reckless despite youth—now a lean curmudgeon,
collecting lanterns and astrolabes, having realised that
not every message needs to be delivered.
More words to ponder at maciejmodzelewski.com
I can’t remember what came first: I stopped dating or going to the beach,
and honestly, I’m not sure that’s even something worth dwelling on
since, considering those measly three dates, there wasn’t much to give up on that front,
whereas it was the beach that made me stay here all those years ago.
But don’t worry; I’ll be fine. After all, I was raised in tough times—I can survive
a minor withdrawal.
hidden pilcrow 