Summer heat beams down, angry and punishing,
brutal light blinds me as my shoulders burn.
My nose and cheeks are freckled, ancient specks once lost
to childhood memories of swimming and sprinklers.
The belligerently blue current bounces
as the shrieks and the smiles of countless kids
chime through the air,
bittersweet as the memory of you.
You who once laughed quietly, like happiness was a secret you kept
from the world,
shared only with me
and the quiet house by the coast.

Now the ports, run down, rotting,
while waves lap at the thin shoreline,
are an eerie mirror of your mind.
Now the chlorinated water only reminds me of your eyes,
clear, but still too far to touch,
distant but reaching,
searching for my name,
for my face,
for me.
I will not visit again.
I will remember you as water, stretching on forever toward the horizon.