In Our Place
We felt tiny,
Her hand in mine
Upon that strand,
Sundown’s rich show
Of indigo
And pink, lush hues
To darkness washed,
True pitch in which
Pale surf, aglow,
Whooshed, foaming in
‘Neath stars, aglitter,
So infinite—
Oh! flecks we were,
Mere motes until
My arms I wrapped
Around my wife
And, lost in love,
We shared a kiss:
Wide world, sea vast,
Eternal sky
Then faded all
To naught.
Copyright © David Bose | Year Posted 2016
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