Hear the groan of the streets
tired and stressed, frantic
with the Friday night traffic.
Engines grumble onwards
fumes gather in smog like form
as we edge slowly closer.
City smells fade away as
our gleaming car glides seawards
on this steaming tarmac highway.
Chasing the sunset down
a stream of shining eyes alight
beams racing forwards.
Passing though worlds apart
the neatly trimmed lawns
of this southern suburbia.
The beach house greets us
it sand blasted sides softened
by twilight's gentle touch.
The veneer of city life is washed off
from wandering on the veranda
listening to cicadas sing.
Tomorrow we will begin
our exploring of this alien world,
silently sinking under the waves.
Tonight walking barefoot
on the cooling sands, drinking in
the breeze, we are holding hands.
Searching for seashells in the surf
we found it, perfectly smooth, rounded,
a polished piece of sea glass.
The years move like tides
not waiting for the past
I remember it all, just from a touch.