IceM
02-14-2012, 03:00 AM
On August nights by the bay,
after the weary sun dips below the sea
and the stars dimly blink against the opaque sky,
I imagine us sitting at the café,
where the shimmering edges of the midnight tide,
pale as the moon’s dreary gaze,
lap at our toes like a faithful hound.
With warm mugs of fresh-made tea,
we would watch wisps of steam fade away
like dandelion seeds in the summer wind, that,
indistinct against the heavens,
are lost in the dawn of the coming day.
And, lying on the lonely beach,
blanketed in the tide’s threadbare touch
and clutched in the grasp of my embrace,
we would patiently await the time when we,
like all that came before today,
would succumb to time and turn to dust.
after the weary sun dips below the sea
and the stars dimly blink against the opaque sky,
I imagine us sitting at the café,
where the shimmering edges of the midnight tide,
pale as the moon’s dreary gaze,
lap at our toes like a faithful hound.
With warm mugs of fresh-made tea,
we would watch wisps of steam fade away
like dandelion seeds in the summer wind, that,
indistinct against the heavens,
are lost in the dawn of the coming day.
And, lying on the lonely beach,
blanketed in the tide’s threadbare touch
and clutched in the grasp of my embrace,
we would patiently await the time when we,
like all that came before today,
would succumb to time and turn to dust.