Sea of Green
I dated a girl who spent almost
every clear day that summer
down at the beach.
It wasn’t the blue sky or the blonde sun rays
or the burn of the hot sand
on the soles of her feet
that called her.
It was the ocean.
She felt one with the water.
We’d drink wine at night and
I touched her glowing, golden skin
and held her pruned hands
and I’d listen as she spoke of the ocean
as if it was a lover.
I saw her up to her freckled shoulders
in the cool water and salty foam.
Her bronzed body undulating
and becoming one
with the briny body of the water.
Her long red hair flourishing
like a million flagella.
The white-crested waves thrusting into her
as she makes her way back
to the wet sands of the shore.
And envy would creep in
like an early morning tide.
Copyright © Matt Kindelmann | Year Posted 2008
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