Comfort

by Dan Gasser on Saturday, July 24, 2010 at 1:03pm

The hunger rolls through
Like a wave with a purpose
Feed me with your scent

Crashing down into the night
White crests fall to the shore
Climbing quietly upon the slope
Until it must recede once again

The neverending pulse
Of wanton abandon
The danger of the unknown
Brings us closer to our peril

Keep your head up
While you ride the surf
Eye on the prize so they say
Things will be..... okay