Summer Sand

We pretended to be children
Loving playfully on baking sands
Aside the starving roar of breaking waves
And the approving primal cries 
Of distant gulls,

Our careless passion,
Discarded shovels and empty buckets
Upside-down, abandoned
On the beach
Before the rising midnight tides.
We left it.
We let it drift away.

- 4/22/25

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