Texas . . .
Sometimes she'd take my breathe away
when she smiled.
We'd go sand-walking
and her footprints would linger
far longer than mine,
the sand holding her close
as long as it could.
We'd hold hands,
sit on the rocks,
watch the sun set,
listen to seagulls hidden in the dark,
waves breaking on the rocks below,
the sea rubbing it's cheek on the sand.
Moonlight would touch her hair,
angel-glow her cheeks;
sometimes we'd sit all night
whispered words keeping us close,
holding the moment,
lingering over the feeling
that we were essential to the whole.
Sometimes she'd take my breathe away,
while sand-walking I spread her essence
between the sand and the sea,
returning her forever,
w. james beard, jr.
© January 2001
[This message has been edited by jwesley (edited 01-12-2001).]