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Your face ripples to mind
to pleasure me
and out again
an image lost
only to splash onto my page of work
clear as a beached shell
I listen down to low tide
hoping to hear your breath
but its softness drowns
in the warning cry of a starboard buoy
lurching on the bars of waves
stretched across the sound.
Each breaker’s damp white hem
pillowed by the rocks
echoes the whisper of my voice
saying your name.
© e-poems.org 2002