To flit and frolic amongst the soft sand,
As the wandering waves touch the fleeting shores,
I kneel down, knowing I hold in my hand,
Fragments of rocks from mountains and moors.
I can name them all, each grain I have seen,
in memories of distant ages old.
No magic nor descrying to glean,
only those world-wearied thoughts to unfold.
I Scoop in my hand what was once a rock
the very same one I engraved your name,
and this, the gemstone you wore in your frock
though that thought belonged to one and the same.
A shaft of pure silver weaved through the fronds,
Split and then joined as a silk spider’s web.
The moon cast its light to tighten the bonds
As the last lights of the sun where to ebb.
The toadstools and shrooms began to glimmer,
To dapple the pool in radiant light.
The midsummer night’s heat started to shimmer
and as a dream our young hearts took flight.
Merry and drunk to gambol and caper,
Such tales to be told of older times still.
Our glad, giddy hearts could never taper,
Till we slept hand in hand, silent, tranquil.
Heart of nostalgia, I bring to my lips,
That sand to kiss that ever-loving stone.
Then drop the sand as it spirals and dips
into the water, by gentle wind blown.
But happy tidings are often few... fleeting
And beauty would fade in a once fair land,
Darkened as it were, a black heart beating
A heart so broken and crushed into sand.