Sonnet #32
Matthew Burnaford
Amber waves hiss and burst upon jutting
Shoulders of earth and rock, constant, timeless
Beautiful. Flowing curves run long, cutting
The coastline clean. Coming closer now, less
Pungent than most perfumes, are wafts of crisp
Ocean air, salty yet sweet, and so much
More tempting to my raw senses. This wisp
Of ocean mist envelops me in such
A way that I feel a certain sort of
Comfort, a feeling of ease like that which
Comes from the tender embrace of my love.
As my car sits in the dank roadside ditch
Of the PCH, I long to return
To my love, and her every twist and turn.
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