Sun Spells
It must have been the wind, how it cheerfully played with the strands of hair adorning your face.
It might have been that time of day, see the sun was orange and just like a heavy balloon it now hid shyly behind the dancing waves.
Those purple-blue waves traveled back and forth and back and forth and as they bounced against the rocks and caused salty drops to spray your bare feet as they too swung back and forth and back and forth.
And you were immersed in all of it and I was immersed in you.
And it must have been the warm grains of sand that we had spent the morning trekking through. It must have been the way the shore shone gold under the sparkling sun. It must have been how it brought you down, insisted you stay for a while, insisted you feel it warmth.
Insisted you feel its heat. Its prickly, sticky heat. It must have been that hot sun glaring on your near bare back. Your back with prickly, sticky drops of sweat.
Or those waves as they sung their melody persistent and enchanted.
And it could have been you, it must have been you.
You now watch the indigo waves and your hair dances erratically around your face, frenzied and excited they swirl in different patterns.
My hands shake, they tremble as I take yours, as my eyes look into yours and my lips find yours.
- okay I realize its not strictly a poem.. but its not a one-shot either sooo-
It might have been that time of day, see the sun was orange and just like a heavy balloon it now hid shyly behind the dancing waves.
Those purple-blue waves traveled back and forth and back and forth and as they bounced against the rocks and caused salty drops to spray your bare feet as they too swung back and forth and back and forth.
And you were immersed in all of it and I was immersed in you.
And it must have been the warm grains of sand that we had spent the morning trekking through. It must have been the way the shore shone gold under the sparkling sun. It must have been how it brought you down, insisted you stay for a while, insisted you feel it warmth.
Insisted you feel its heat. Its prickly, sticky heat. It must have been that hot sun glaring on your near bare back. Your back with prickly, sticky drops of sweat.
Or those waves as they sung their melody persistent and enchanted.
And it could have been you, it must have been you.
You now watch the indigo waves and your hair dances erratically around your face, frenzied and excited they swirl in different patterns.
My hands shake, they tremble as I take yours, as my eyes look into yours and my lips find yours.
- okay I realize its not strictly a poem.. but its not a one-shot either sooo-