Rhyming game

Salted air hangs heavy in the 

Misted Square

Where white sails can be seen past the

Rusted Rails

The waves high five after the

Surfers Dive

And the pumpkins smash into the

Blackened Ash

Smoke billows from the closet, a

Refined Composite

Bustling places have turned to 

Wasted Spaces

And as the water bubbles my 

Thoughts are troubled

The salt turned to snow and there is

Nowhere to Go

Often sunbeams trigger awareness of the

Distance getting bigger

With no resolve the discussions 

Devolve

Into shouting matches, words sting like

Cat Scratches

Sadness allows for the resentment to 

Plow

Creating a growing persistence of 

Full Resistance

It makes me aware of how I'm longing for the

Salted Air

-beeee