“How strange to talk,” She murmured
Her eyes lowered, hair coming undone
Her voice a feather being blown by the wind
“Like an immortal child who speaks to silence,”

I didn’t understand what she meant by that
An insult or a compliment, or a statement of fact
She left me after that, her feet sinking into the liquid sand
Her hair flying free as her hands raised and gripped the wind

The sun kissed my face that day
A burning sensation
The moon leaned so close to us
That it’s long arms wrapped us up in an eternal bond

I envied her, in a sense
In the way the ocean envies the sand on the beach
As the sand envies her footprints left there
Or perhaps it only envies not being molded

Into something tangible
Into something that has been touched
By a soul that can hold Time
And will it to stop