Saturday, August 18, 2007

the Ocean

i cannot see the end of you
maybe the beginning
but there are so many
i know only this one
here at my fingertips
nails filled with sand
each grain different
than the others
dripping from my grasp
as i carry each back to its start
and run laughing from you
to start again and again
never in vain
never in stress
never getting very far
none the less
yet i would labor all day
just for the joy of being near you