• Lorraine Johnson

[124] One More Time

Old and barnacled

by salted winds that blow

—and ancient wood docks

with cracked floors

that whisper bittersweets

from yesterdays before.


I dive in and pull out

all that's hidden in the folds

light and dark, as they were told

I turn the old into new

just for me and for you

It's one more time

with the rising tide.


Just like a dream

when you come into view

Just like a dream

as I turn old into new,

leaving bruised echos

to the lonely sea

and its forever lingering

—sweet, sweet breeze.