Looking

I look

and look more

but there are no tears in this sand,

the one asleep, on your waist, huddled

around your eyes, hiding

in the shore at your feet,

melting slowly

on its way to distant horizon,

past which, far enough away,

we would find us again

laying still, in wait

of more darkness

ladled onto us by an evening

into which we can set like the sun,

a quiet sigh