The ocean roughly kissed
her lips and in the mist she felt
tiny grains of sand pelt
hard against the old welt, a scar
from days she thought were far
away but still could mar her days.
Enveloped in a haze,
she ran in varied ways to slip
from pains which held their grip
but on this pointless trip persist.
© Susan Schoeffield
Written for Day 2 of the Poetic Asides April 2014 PAD Challenge to write a “voyage” poem.