Beach Cabin
I dreamed you were the sea ; I dreamed you pounded With foamy fists, the sad face of the shore.
Waking, I lay beneath you, And the room resounded With the hoarse fury of the mounting ocean's roar.
Genevieve Taggard
I dreamed you were the sea ; I dreamed you pounded With foamy fists, the sad face of the shore.
Waking, I lay beneath you, And the room resounded With the hoarse fury of the mounting ocean's roar.
In just four lines, Genevieve Taggard turns a seaside night into an intimate, slightly unsettling dream. The speaker dreams that her lover is the ocean, pounding the shore with “foamy fists”—language that mixes violence with tenderness, as if love itself is beating against a sad, passive face.
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