Waves spraying our faces, for, we don't walk the walk.
The beaches edge, which ever changes, is where we,
Sky, earth, moon and sea meet.
Breezing through the strong breeze,
The fuller our lungs the lighter we'd run,
It was to be, with ease.
As reality, she and I stalked ourselves
In those shells silences, like when
We leaped from a slip on a rock to the next, well.
Then sitting still, we glistened, the sun splashing
Through us, as the ocean's and our salt were one.
Her thoughts and mine flowed,
Our feelings were its ebb and flow.
Nature, true, would not be unsung.
That blue gray cloudy day found us in the end.
Finding it by moon's ray, our ears to waves did lend.
It was as our footprints,
Truly there, 'til waves did gently lift.
For, if it were that we held it,
Like sand grasped, it wouldn't be a gift.
Varying versions of this twig of poetree over the decades, this is the earliest one. reality