sand on our backs

sand on our feet and hands

dry sand, wet sand, gritty sand,

warm sand with shells;

sand strewn with seaweed

and drowned with waves;

sand pulled and spread

and tossed by the tide;

sand bleached by the sun

under the water blue sky

you are gone but the sand remains,

and the salty scent of the sea,

and the breeze that plays still with my hair

as though you were never here;

the white sails of ships, flying far away

catch gleams from the sun

as it sinks into the sea,

and now belong only to me,

thoughts of tide pools into which we sank,

bob again like peaks on waves,

but only as a reverie,

for in between the waves

I see the you that you became

who faithless, one day left,

while I stayed on the sand

and only once glanced up

to say good-bye,

long after you had gone

oh, you came back, regretful,

some lovers do,

but I belonged by then, only to the sea.

Poem, Copyright Gloria Gay: 2007

 Photograph by Gloria Gay: Copyright 2008