We never planned it—
we just came back.
Same beach, same breath of sea,
three kids chasing the wind
like it was made for them.
You with your wine,
me with a beer,
watching the sky throw joy
like confetti—
bright, weightless,
impossible to hold.
The sand didn’t keep us,
but it knew our names.
And when the noise of life
pulls them somewhere we can’t follow—
we’ll return to this shore,
where nothing was perfect,
but everything was real.
Sep 14, 2025
Sep 14, 2025 at 11:52 AM UTC
We never planned it—
we just came back.
Same beach, same breath of sea,
three kids chasing the wind
like it was made for them.
You with your wine,
me with a beer,
watching the sky throw joy
like confetti—
bright, weightless,
impossible to hold.
The sand didn’t keep us,
but it knew our names.
And when the noise of life
pulls them somewhere we can’t follow—
we’ll return to this shore,
where nothing was perfect,
but everything was real.
A poem for a painting
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