It was early

And birds were singing

Scattered patches of deep grass boarded the egg shell rocks

And the bitterly cold water

Four benches sit across from each other 

As my love sits on the first

Above a grass patch

Staring off into the distance

She watches the birds fly over the water

Searching for there first meal

The wind plays with her tree-bark hair

Highlighted eggplant purple

Intertwining with a light maroon

The sun begins to rest above and behind our heads

We perpare to get back onto our bikes for the ride back to camp

Along an abandonded dirty-grey path 

This was our spot

Later that evening we return

Sit back down on the same bench

Look over a sea

As calm as her when sleeping

A lemon yellow fades into an autumn-leaf orange

Fluffed clouds stretch across the landscape

Reaching for the space above

Lifting over a sun as it holds them up

And illuminates the island below

As the day drifts away, so do the boats

Birds no longer sing and she whispers,

"This is our spot"