Between Silver and Gold
Sand on the strand is washed
by the ebb, with surf's surges
grinding each grain. I attend
to rock and shell, crushed into
colour,
rivulets of microrojewels.
Between silver and gold;
I wrote our names, marking
thirty-eight years as one and
counting.
Incoming tide will wash us out;
but stranded, laid up together,
watermarked into the sand,
fresh patterns of silver and gold,
reflecting,
we are entwined while the moon
orbits from neap to spring.
Phased into time, we are ever
the same, changing, as one
celebrating.
Copyright © Lisle Ryder | Year Posted 2018
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