Whenever I Go To The Coast

Whenever I Go To The Coast

The glare of the afternoon sun

caught sight of your hands

as they grazed my skin,

lightly committed lines leaving traces

like sand grains, sprinkled thinly into glistening patterns

where our dry backs meet the ocean

and gave in to melting.

What I mean to say

is that I cherish these soft days

where souls are christened with sea salt

and float atop peace waves,

where healing is a boat

that casts out its anchor

on the beach shores of our suffering,

nets spread tenderly with intentions

to carry the load off my mind.

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