Cool Sands of Summer

Cool sands of summer tide you over until fall,
their grainy clusters clinging to your feet.
You stand against an angry rogue wave,
its foamy fist pounding your knees;
churning the sand you so love.

Summer is the age of new love,
overflowing like rivers into the sea.
Yet you find the death of eternal love
inside an empty pink-tipped conch shell,
bleaching in the sand from a sunny glare.

I cannot soothe your wounded soul;
the sacred hollow of hermit crabs.
Tides roll in and out, erasing kisses
that were made of salt and promises.
Love, like the rebel sea sifts in the wind.

Will you hide yourself inside the conch?
Waiting for the lone song of a siren
to arouse your tattered heart?
Remember this, as the wind wails,
you can hide from the world...

but not yourself.