On that Beach

 

Flood of  sunlight.

Alone on that beach,

dozing to the clock of the tide:

sibilance into sonorousness:

each wave rolling down the coast.

You walked along the water’s edge,

white cotton dress, fishing net for the sun;

beautiful.

.

When today I hear a tide’s clamour

each wave’s commotion roaring into the distance;

consider the millions of stones turning over,

the endlessness of that beauty strikes

the match of that momentary vision:

you dressed in light,

strolling the edge of eternity

just once

as the tide drummed an afternoon’s hours away.