Wishing you were here, maybe

Jane Dougherty Writes

The dverse prompt is to write a postcard poem. Not wishing to show favouritism, I’ve written four poems, or postcards to different people from different people in different places.


You’re there,

and I’m here,

and all around,

the gulls fly,

like they did when you

were here


It’s hot here, and the sea is blue,

the sand is hot, the mosquitoes bite,

and the blue sea rolls up the hot sand

and back again.

The sun sets,

we put salve on our burns,

drink too much sangria

and try to sleep,

then we go back out

in the hot sun on the white sand

and watch the blue sea roll

and wish for something else.

There’s nothing here to speak of,

lots of old trees sighing in the breeze

full of birds making weird noises,

nothing to do all day

except watch the light change and the hawks fighting,

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