It was the first day.
The wash on round stones,
To my left, the sea was busy,
Washing softer, rounder ones.

The Sun moved its support,
To the actions to the South,
None prepared, none compared,
And so words laid idle in mouth.

Her descent to the shoreline,
Closing in from the right,
And I, standing awkward,
She, invaded my eyes.


So gentle the motions,
As softly the greeting,
So dissolved my notions,
Of mastering this meeting