I watch
     clumps of wet sand
snuggle between your toes,
     water cuddle our ankles
before running away
as if it’s done
something naughty.

     You launch a grey pebble
towards the scorched horizon,
lands with a ‘plop’,
     and another,
     a plump rock
goes ‘sploosh’,
guzzled up by a wave.

Next, with a finger
     you scrape our names
on the beach,
our temporary graffiti,
   squash your hands
into the surface
like we’re at the Walk of Fame.

I listen to the candy-*******
sound as you move,
    look back and count
    the footprints we’ve created,
know by morning
they’ll be gone,
like we were never here at all.