Entitlement

poetry | writing
woman walks away through plants in greenhouse

“I’ll sit right here and watch

the tide go out and in,” the woman sighed.

 

Beneath the aqua sky she stayed and

breathed salt air the ocean made as

seagulls squawked and walked the dunes

she was content. She hummed her

tunes, whiling away the afternoon,

knowing that it would end too soon.

 

And as the darkness began to grow,

the wind picked up, began to blow.

The woman stood, surveyed the sea and

said in a whisper for no one to hear,

“This is my place, my space in the world,

entitlement means this land is for me.”