The shoreline stretches out in a colored ribbon of brick and chestnut, copper and sienna. It runs and it scatters before finding itself again as if a timeless song.
She says the ribbon seems a million miles long and it makes her feel like an astronaut. She’s glad she understands the science of holding hands, because she will never be lost in space.
His scatter of thoughts runs loose against the ocean breeze like a live wire, painting her face in wildflowers and pick pocketing the scoundrel in her laugh.
They skim the heavy shells against the water’s surface and watch as the runaway saucers prosper magical dances before losing to the tides; after which they will begin their journey home once more.
Their hands form a crescent-like miracle of newfound heavens. The crease of their interwoven fingers is locked into the consequences of fire and water, and the kismet it provokes.
They find a silence that is testimony to patience and time, love and belief. The space between becomes pregnant with memories and love songs made from wine and star drenched nights.
The rustle of these promised moments finally breaks the silence; replacing it with anecdotes that changed them and chances that allowed them and signs that told them.
Their aimless wander spells the hours of a day as if spoken from favorite books. When the sky grows old, their ideas become brilliant destinations as the sun sings a ballad to the moon in crimson melodies.
Before long, the stars are collapsing into their arms in a mysterious bouquet of the here and now, and forever after. They drink in the perfume and they dine on the excess as if birds with ravenous wings.
They kick off their shoes once the sun’s wick burns down to ash and they splash along the water’s edge; the cold, scalloped currents giving chase like farm cats in winter.
The shoreline goes missing with the darkness and the tides begin their wild, relentless holler. And the sand begets their soulful hug as the world goes simple. And home becomes the space they share.
Its road a million miles.