Alone, a desolate island
Of soft, white sand blanketed
Over warmed toes
With the sea to bask in,
The clouds to dab on firm canvases
An old world forgotten
A vacant contentedness
Names lost in the ebbing of tides
But there, a voice calling
Over rolling waves, a small boat
Pulls from that crystal harbor
She steps out, an ever-so present smile
Approaches from the shore
A familiar friend, she sits beside me
And gently opens a book
Two, lying together
Toes caked in sand, reading
With the sea to hum soft lullabies,
The clouds to shade our pages,
A piece of an old world
Quietly waiting
Her name both a soft reminder
and a promise fulfilled
Stirring from a nap’s embrace,
We stretch,
Close the book, roll my canvases
She stands,
A looped arm offered
I take it, knowing
An old world awaits us
A boat untied, the sail breathes
Each wave rocking me to wakefulness
As I search the skyline
Knowing a few welcomed detours
lie ahead, I see her,
In her mere being
And I see the love that has come
To coax me from my shore again