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Untitled #52
�I sit on the sand, watching wave upon wave
rush with quickness, opening like a young
flower certain to devour me; it�s distinct the
way the blue seems gray crashing to white
under the moon, shining light on a dark night;
I notice the approach and it�s like rows
dwindling to some small substance tickling
my toes; it�s touching, more than nothing, but
a wait for what�s tempting appears to be a
simpler thing; the wind sings a rhythmic theme;
a sensation so sublime sets my expectations to
linger long and where I am, I suspect to be where
I belong; the night eventually loses it�s tint; my
eyes squint with a stare to notice a pink-ish
glare; more minutes I master, time ticks faster
and only after laughter there�s a rebuttal; the
ocean softens to be more subtle; it sounds like
what they say about the dawning of a new day;
what�s life, peaks over the horizon and signals
me to stay; I won�t leave; I roll my sleeves to feel a
new breeze complimenting the soft heat I also
receive; the rise can�t be disguised, it appears full
and fine like the undisturbed words served from
the tip of the lips by my vintage Valentine; like
sweet candy and roses satisfying noses, the moment
is monumental and with my will even more
impenetrable, a vision I seek to embrace, to taste
and calculate the math and figure the length of
orange reaching across the ocean like a path; I
grow fonder of the emotion growing yonder with
no question regarding why; in fact, I grow
devotedly attached watching what I claim raise
high; the quiver in my knees due to the l-o-v-e scares
me not, for what was yesterday, I�ve forgot; what�s
new reached five and two �
Copyright � 2001
