her pocket book of woes,
was left behind, for now, in her room
i presume,
near water she was a nymph
yearning to swim.
the moment rushing wave
kissed the sands
she fell over me, tumbling.
we rolled in the foamy
waves, rollicking .
we were heart beat close,
-for few more hours-
i was painfully aware,
strands of hair displaced,  added allure to her face,
grains of gleaming mineral sand
on her lips, invited,
greedy for the salty sweet
of her partly open pouty lips,
i lunged, she met me half way
we kissed in a feverish pitch
still not forgetting
that her cup of woes awaits,
expecting us to part
O