Where have you been?” the morning asked, gold hand upon my face,
“I’ve been lost in worry,” I said, “and walking half asleep.”
“Then come back slow,” the sunlight breathed, “there’s mercy in this place,”
“I forgot the world was singing,” I whispered, “from the deep.”
We left our phones like tired stones beside the folded towels,
And walked where glassy water broke in silver on the sand.
My friend said, “Listen, even now, the gulls are ringing vowels,”
I laughed because the wind reached out and took me by the hand.
The ocean smelled of salt and life, of kelp and open doors,
The air moved soft across our skin like kindness we could feel.
“How many days,” she asked me there, “have we ignored these shores?”
“Too many,” I said, “but today this blue is something real.”
We laid down warm against the earth, the beach beneath our backs,
The sun poured amber through our bones and loosened every knot.
The waves kept time beyond our breath, erasing all our tracks,
My friend said, “This is all we have,” and I said, “All we’ve got.”
A boy ran past with dripping hair, his laughter bright and wild,
His mother shook her head and smiled, her eyes a summer sky.
“Look,” I said, “joy is barefoot here, still trusting like a child,”
“Maybe joy never left,” she said, “maybe we passed it by.”
The waves collapsed in thunder-soft, then rose from foam and rain,
They spoke in broken music we could understand.
“I used to live tomorrow’s storms and yesterday’s old pain,”
“And missed the small warm miracles held open in my hand.”
She said, “I know. I lose the light to bills and buzzing screens,”
“I forget my father’s gentle voice, my sister’s kitchen song.”
“I miss the garden after work, the lemon leaves, the greens,”
“Then wonder why my heart feels tired from hurrying so long.”
We walked the shore until our feet wrote stories in the foam,
The tide came in and kissed them clean, as if to let us start.
“Maybe beauty waits,” I said, “like someone leaving home,”
“But returns the very moment we make room inside the heart.”
The sun warmed up the oranges we peeled with sandy thumbs,
Sweet juice ran down, and salt was on our lips.
The whole bright day beat in our chests like drums,
Of blood and breath and summer held in simple, shining sips.
“Do you feel that?” she asked me, “how the breeze begins to mend?”
“It smells like clean beginnings blown across the bay.”
I said, “The world keeps offering itself like a friend,”
“And all it asks is that we lift our eyes and stay.”
Children built a castle where the wet sand held its form,
Then cheered when waves came reaching in and pulled the towers down.
“Nothing lasts,” my friend said, “but the day is still so warm,”
“And even falling castles leave us laughing in this town.”
We spoke about the day ahead, our hopes, our small endeavors,
Then let them drift like seabirds over the blue.
No past could chain us there, no future stormy weathers,
The now was sunlit skin and sea, and every breath was new.
“So promise me,” the morning said, “when beauty calls, allow it,”
“I’m here,” I told the shining world, “I see you now, I vow it.”

…

DCG