interwoven hands,
they walk side by side
along the lane of sand.
beyond the retreating waves,
everything else is hushed;
the sense of isolation, of
being away from the hour’s rush
makes for a breathing space.
“the whole world is waiting for us,” she says.
“let them,” is his response.
“the world belongs to us.”
and it did.
leading a singular life was nice while it lasted; this plurality has promise…
