Boca to Cabo

The constant lapping of the waves let me know I am alive

The sand, rough and cool, my body shivers under the moon

She said to meet her here, but the beach is empty

The sand, sucking the warmth from my heart

Nothing left but chills reverberating against a hollow soul

Somewhere off in the black is a boat

Traveling lonely, only the murmur of its engine filling the air

Moving to some far off port to unload its cargo

Only to take to the sea again – to embrace loneliness

This time it’s Boca, last time Cabo

Small towns to make the hurt seem less

I know she is watching on the sand

Tear rolling down her cheek

But this will be the last beach

No warmth left for the sand to steal

It was never the land or even the sea

I just wanted her to be with, me.


  • Laura


    I felt the sand,
    I felt the cold.
    I’ve traveled alone from East to West.
    It’s never about the
    “land or even the sea”...
    It’s all about the one I wanted to hold so dear!
    Your poem has awakened the memories of decades ago! I traced my steps from sea to shining sea; unfortunately, I was too late. I missed that I waited for another!

    An excellent write which I enjoyed reading!


    • TrystanBehm

      Hey Laura,

      What a brilliant comment! I believe though, there is only one boat...

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