Listen

I did the majority of my growing up in South Milwaukee Wisconsin. From most of the houses I lived in, it was only a 15 minute walk to Grant Park, from there you only had to walk down to the Yacht Club, and jump the fence if you wanted to be alone on the beach. I spent a lot of time on the “not for public use” side of that fence. I was a teenager with issues. My visits with Lake Michigan are the only regret I have about moving up here to the “woods”. There are plenty of lakes, rivers, streams and bogs around Mauston and I am really not that far from the Lemonweir or the Baraboo Rivers, but it just is not the same. My friends and I would swim all summer long, and party year round where the only people who could see us were the homeowners whose properties went right up to the cliff edge. They didn't look down very often, we didn't mind. I did a lot of writing in the sand just to watch it wash away, it was very spiritual and cleansing, though I did not realize it then. I only knew that I was an unhappy kid, and the waves made me feel better. Ok, that is it for the look into my head for today. Hope you enjoy this one.

Listen

Listen to the waves,
pound against the shore,
trying to return
to a time they knew before

Listen to the wind
cry it's lonely song,
searching for a place
where it can belong

Sea birds are on the wind
the summer sun is high
Somewhere in these waves
are the tears I need to cry

I can hear the seagulls
Crying out their song
telling me I can’t return
I’ve been gone too long

Look into the waves
They look so wild and cold
In their depths I see
All the dreams I’ve bought
And the soul that I have sold

Listen to the waves,
hear them whisper and roar
listen to them tell me
I am not welcome anymore

Something about these waves
brings me peace of mind
I can always come here looking
for the words I need to find

If only I keep watching
I might someday understand
Then my dreams may sparkle
like the glass within the sand

Story ID:	893
Written by:	Catherine AimeeRuth Grainger (bio, link, contact, other stories)
Story type:	Poem
Location:	Mauston Wisconsin United States
Year:	1986
Person:	Cathi Olson/Grainger