the stones shaped by years of water’s caress;
stories trapped like wet sand sticking to our skin.
You kiss my sleepy eyes reading stories with your fingers
on me and sandy beach, washed by waves
following traces of our tryst that evening.
Two indistinguishable objects – us and stones
lost in their dreams of being one;
with the sea, the sand, the sun, the birds
our first memory together, our shared secret
screamed to nature, who erased all signs
of our footsteps and wherever that followed.
Written for Toads prompt for iterpretation of alcoholic Inks.
