‘How odd’ thought the girl
‘How odd –that the sandy beaches
fall silent in his footsteps,
encompassed only by the
stillest of feelings delicate in the
farthest star
–that even when alone
a breathtaking chorus of winds
seem to fierce their existences through
the scalps of his hair
–that whisperings of his voice
ring loud through the corners of my shadow
in the darkest of nights when it rains.’

‘And how strange’ thought the girl
‘How strange – that worlds seem to
flutter through the cores of my
being
rushing up high and fast,
with a feeling like a roar
–that remnants of his touch flicker
sparklings of the wonder
found only in the sighs of soaking dew
–that melancholy melodies slip
the senses of my skin in every
glance turned my way
in every moment of the days.’

‘But how lovely’ smiled the girl
‘How wonderfully, terrifically, splendidly lovely’
and she smiled again
‘ –that the beaches
and the stars
and the winds
and the shadows
and the worlds
and the dew
and the melancholy melodies,
will be here when he’s gone,
and I shan’t be alone,
and that’
which we all must agree to be wise
‘-that is my kind of love’