Mourning Sandpiper

by Heather Farmer

You linger on the shore of her soul
living driftwood without a goal
head on a pillow of plumage
waiting for her

Lonely as a lute
your song stirs empty air
Sad as a flute
the notes come one by one
calling her

How long will you love like this?
Keeping tryst?

The tides and time
will wash away all trace

No footprints there
no piping in the air

Nothing to mark the place

This poem was created during a workshop with New Shoots: Cairns Botanic Gardens