Everything here speaks of you;
a gull does his slow dance through wave
and cloud, silver fades blue;
morning ritual turned to day.
Memory serves an odd touch, your hand
turning rock over sand.
A curious wake moves to deliver new land;
nature, gloriously manned.
Love, can time provide
our salve, though we never sail the tide,
perfect, as land and ocean collide,
crashing wake in lover's time?
Everything here, aches of you,
morning ritual, silver turned blue.