Separation

O la la! she calls over
and over. You see only
her head but her voice
reaches out to her cocker's
disconsolate dance.
Does he howl for himself,
for her, or from fear
of this unassailable break?
                                  
Both have demands.
He continues to spin
when she, bra-less and tanned,
strides the strand.
But need the tide turn,
irreversibly?

Sally Festing

If you have any thoughts on this poem, Sally Festing  would be pleased to hear them.