She let the wave come around her legs.

… A soft, and welcoming trail.

What wonderful murmurs the sun had spoke!

The spirits, who carried them over the neon haze,

made his eyes become pale.


He let his hand press against her own.

… But sadly, he felt no affection.

His nerves began to cringe at the beauty.

Severed, he trudged with the smells of sweat and spray.

Drenched in a pensive reflection.


He dropped to the sand and screamed in mute.

… I was adrift, abandoned, coy.

We dreamed of picking the broken glass from the swell, for you.

Doused, and wistfully crawling through the foam -

Never assuming her guilt, sat the clueless boy.


Torn between child, and God’s own courier.

… I began to surface, floating aimlessly.

The man in the sand, and the boy lost at sea -

Are one in the same.

Just like him.

Just like me.

We laughed.
She smiled.
But the sea wept  -
For what could never be.