She walks along the water’s edge,
The rouge of dusk upon her cheeks.
Footprints fade with each new wave,
And the foggy notion of a blue bikini.

From where I stand on sandy shore,
A beam comes lancing through the dark.
This lighthouse meant for ships at sea,
A beacon to my broken heart.

I watch the water lap the sand,
See pools of liquid, ebb and flow.
Mirrored by the light of moon,
Her beaming smile, a golden glow.

I see her body, lean and tan,
Her lips the scent of salty love.
I long to see her whole again,
Without the darkened stains of blood.

A wind–blown kiss to tease my mind,
Her eyes seem fixed on eternity.
The riptides keep her drifting soul
Close to shore, but out of reach.

How is it that I feel her near,
But I’m not allowed to touch her face?
She’s been gone for six long years,
Why must I sit alone and wait?

Yet, some will witness my resolve,
A man possessed, forlorn and grey.
They may wish to comfort me,
Or simply turn and walk away.

But I’ll not speak of my lost love,
As I scan the beach in the misty dark.
I’d rather remember her surfing the waves,
Before her date with the great white shark!



Michael S. True
2009 last edit 8-28-14