Sandy

Sandy, with her whispy/tawny hair;
Sandy, light and lithe, and dancing everywhere;
Sandy, like an easy western breeze,
Laughing like a puff-cloud o’er the seas.

A storm? A powerful, wrenching storm?
Oh, no. These namers are out of form.

Sandra, now, with black-brown smoldering eyes;
Sandra, sullen, stubborn, yet seeming wise;
Sandra, jealous, temper bursting out,
Shouting, hurling curses all about!

Sandra has swept boiling from the sea!
Sandy winks, and skips away with me.

This entry was posted in Poetry. Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s