Seaside Sonnet

An October day – we could see our breath. You and I had the beach all to ourselves. Artwork in the sand – talkin’ about death. You wanted to talk about somethin’ else. You were watchin’ the clouds, and me, the waves. You stayed close enough to borrow my warmth. You talked origin; I talked about age – prayed to witness when the tropics move north. We outran the tide five feet to a time till the fairy tale was an aftermath. You said that love travels in a straight line with language intercepting its path… that words shouldn’t change the trajectory of souls; that death’s a grip on a loss of control.