I.

Waves crash into roiling warmth
Foam settles, slows, then stops—
a moment’s pause,
the bottom of the ocean’s breath,
waiting for the pull back to sea.

Receding, a grief:
friction twixt the sand and water,
the wave inclining to gravity,
sinking through the grains.

Each touch a bond—
temporary, fleeting—
lost to the reliquary,
in every wave retold.

II.

So grief lays down
its film of salt—
to remind the sand
of what was and soon will be.

Each crest a vow
that cannot last,
each fall a promise
to begin again.