2026 Stanza Bonanza Winning Entry

Dear You—

by Linda Daniele

The sea is still deciding what blue means,
leaning toward glass, an unbroken sentence.
Whitehaven curls like a comma, holding breath
between tides that forget their beginning.

I walked where the sand sang underfoot,
each step a small confession to the wind.
Boats drift like thoughts left unsent,
anchors asking the seabed to belong.

I don’t know which year you are reading from—
here, the reef is a half-remembered cathedral,
rooms of colour dimmed or blazing
by the faith of those who arrive.

Fish flicker like bright ellipses,
and silence swells, the loudest thing alive.
If this is the past, we were careless with forever.
If this is the future, tell me what forgave us.

I send this on a wind that does not age,
creased like something held too long.
Wish you were here,
wherever “here” still is.