the bathing is over
crash of waves now a thing of the past
the rippled bed she rolled upon lays undressed
painted naked and smooth
neath the nights lusty moon
a plateau of peace
where once my aching muscle
rode the glorious swell across that salted floor
upon her heaving pool of desire
but tide has turned
i plough those crests no more
now birds in the night cry out
and chill of wind kicks sand in my face
the change of season
becomes a shudder across my shoulders