Driftwood

From a distance,

It looked like an arm

In a long

Kimono sleeve,

Brown and flowing.

 

I imagined a small hand 

Sticking out of the

Wet cloth,

Each finger clenched tight 

Except the pointer.

 

I wanted to swim to the girl

Behind the hand,

Have her pull me into the water,

Show me where she was pointing,

And why.

 

Instead, I watched the wood

Drift from my view

Until it burned my eyes to look,

And I stared into the choppy grey sea

Left empty.  

Burgandy Herrmann is a 19- year old writer in college, currently studying creative writing. She has three loving cats and loves getting outside in nature.

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