To the heart shaped rock

sitting

somewhere

along the beach in Brehat,

 

Climbing the cliffs,

exploring the tide pools,

wandering through sweet fruit bearing gardens;

this must be

paradise.

 

But, how bland the stars must seem to you,

constant as the tide that drowns you,

Have the bitter waters dulled your edge?

 

The moon has pulled back

many tides

since I have felt the kiss of that salty air.

 

Strange,

I do not remember the sun

that beat down on my curls

the day we found you,

left you,

among the pebbles that framed your charms.

 

I do not remember the cold tongue

of the ocean

lapping my feet and ankles.

 

I do not remember the rough bike seat

carrying my weight

across the bridge

that connects the north and south of the island.

 

Do you remember?