Static

A round of applause
those nosy palm trees
The mid-summer wind's
dance with the seas

Ebbing waves--ocean brine
a conch on my ear
the soft secret whisper
my love, my dear

But the tides do turn
as One with the Moon
light footsteps fall heavy
doubt comes too soon

Your hollow voice

your last phone call

do you love me less,

did you love me at all?

Parched sand thirsts
for torrential rain
now the love-worn radio
will never sing again.