Rising from the Cracks

Dawn softly peels away darkness
with the gentlest of hands,
fluttering brushstrokes of
honeyed sunrise
over sand-crusted streets.

All around me,
the salty tang of nostalgia
lingers in the mist.

The seaside town brings back
memories that rage
like relentless ocean waves,
rolling a terrible new ache
over my chest,

memories that throb
through the pauses
between music tracks,

memories that flit
like shadows in bare rooms
where windowpanes are streaked
with teardrops of rain,

memories that drift
into my mind
as I wander down
quiet streets laced
with last night’s downpour,

so consumed with thoughts
that I almost don’t notice
the wildflowers dancing
in the sidewalk cracks,

mauve ballerinas
trampled on again and again
but still blooming,
petals winking in the sun.

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