Cinquains by Kathy Lippard Cobb

Beachside:
coconut oil
caresses my senses,
green water softly fades into
the blue . . .

Sea lace:
icy white foam
as waves meet the shore, first
retreats . . . then rushes, surpassing
the last.

High tide:
soft summer waves
gently rise and collapse,
rushing, receding, repeating
itself.

His eyes:
a stonewashed blue
tearing down walls I so
carefully built . . . I'm left naked
again.

Mismatched:
A glamour girl
and blue jeans kind of guy . . .
He hikes, she follows, checking her
makeup.

Regrets:
We used to wake
wrapped in each other's arms.
Now, you're there, I'm here . . . is this all
there is?

The War:
Each rose vying
for space, air and sunlight,
even more beautiful due to
its thorns.

Assent:
the white rose bends
toward sunlight, dewdrops
run slowly from petal to stem . . .
then fall.

Sundown:
best friend - best dog,
both curled up fast asleep,
for one moment, things are as they
should be.

Seaside:
the moon ripples,
then rushes toward shore,
slowly receding to itself
again.

Moonrise,
bare, twisted limbs
reach toward the black sky.
Will there be blossoms tomorrow
morning?

My rock:
I sit and let
the waves carry my thoughts
away, knowing they'll return with
the tide.

Twilight:
yellow petals
gently fall from the rose,
then touching ground, a wind sweeps them
away . . .