ocean breeze whips my hair
tiny grains rub my toes
as I
trace my fingers through the sand-
outlining your face, as if you could be
found again
amongst the sand you once tread upon;

but your scent is washed by the waves
and you hide in the Ocean.

Sun sets in the horizon
and the ocean bleeds red
and pink;
if Sakura petals can float on the Atlantic
you could return home.

Perpetually chasing the everlasting,
We somehow find ourselves
wholly immersed
In something so fragile and ephemeral
in its stead-
 

The longer the wait
the more foreign it seems
to be felt again;
as if
crossroads in ancient capitals
were intertwined with
modern roads.