cool sand

cool sand, soft on my feet,
the old moon in the arms of the new,
stars coming out one by one.
the sweet taste of wine in my mouth,
and thoughts of you.
the evening air a cool touch on my face,
my footsteps shadows on the wind-blown sand.
wishing.
thinking of your touch:
warm when I’m cold,
tender when I’m lonely,
soothing when I’m restless,
comforting, giving me strength.
wishing I could share with you
who are too far away to touch
except in my mind
and heart
as I watch the evening sky go dark.

4/2003

 

A poem written at Monahans Sandhills State Park

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