Seashells, Salt and You

Summer arrives on the tips of waves.
Salt on my lips moves me to tears,
The harsh winds of summer expose all;
good along with the bad.
The memories of summer past are raw.
The salt air burns me. I remember
watching you write my name in the sand,
daring the surf to erase it.
We made a circle of seashells,
to dance within under a pale moon's glow.
I in sheer chiffon, you in crisp cotton;
we let the night take us
to places lovers know...
secret hollows of the soul.
Exposure to the sea can be deadly.
The salt air bites the skin.
Seashells cut our feet...
and you became my lost merman.
I weep an ocean, as I remember.