"Poetry and hums aren't things which you get, they're things which get you. All you can do is go where they can find you" – A.A. Milne, Winnie-the-Pooh
you recess me, I am a girl again –
walking along a winter beach as the wind whispers on my skin.
The ocean is growling at the pebble beach, playfully batting at the shore.
My face is cold, capillaries beat through translucent winter film.
And I am giddy with you, an osmosis that purges all my sadness.
Shackles rusted away by salt-sea water.