Sand and Water

I retreat to the house
that sits on the edge
of sand and water, where
you and I once laughed
and swam with the whales.

I still see you—a flash—
a peripheral malady—
a welcomed sickness,
desperate to be close
to the one who cupped my sorrows,
letting it drip into the unending tides
of love sublime.

The soft wind of your breath
caresses my neck,
enveloping my body,
leaving it tingling
with cosmic electricity.

You wait for me in the waters of time,
so patient for those first steps
where I sink deeper
into earth’s quicksand.

Our bodies move as one
suspended in eternal delight.
              
                         I’ve never felt anything so warm.

© K.D. Schultz