The sea is coming in
in careful undulations
chin scraping
the rough dull salted sand

It has seen my writing
the grooves of an alphabetic fragment
in the advent of its coming
stringed by a joyous cursivity

Where a linkage of letters
sweep upwards in an unbridled slant
before plunging down
to birth its neighbour

It fills the words
on a wordless shore
where in its uptake of the sentiment
bursts the banks of the consonants

It pronounces these unfamiliarities
and tips forward to my frayed sandals
in a question of confirmation
I flex my toes quietly

It will not forget you and me
while it bears my humble scrawl
to every far-off shore
that holds the resonance of your tread
or the rumour of your coming –

A/N: written some three years ago, when I was young and in love, and I put this here in a pathetic attempt to match the tone and style of the other bits in this collection - The more I read it, the more I hate it -