Wander that distant beach below cliffs:
bring a green-gray/wet-dry heart-shaped
stone back to your best friend,
having thought of her in your solitude.
After the expedient move north,
take her daughter’s wobbly hand,
dance the sand, chase foam toward
sea, reveal white lines licking blue,
emerald-black, rose, burrowed stones.
Fold her hands, fill her pockets.
Invite her to play every day;
bring a dog, shy from abuse,
to run; reunite wave with foam.
Find flat stones, curve, touch,
as lovely as color this time;
be the first to see her skip on water,
one stone prancing thrice
before scooped beneath wave,
water to enhance its beauty
while awaiting revisit to land.
On the last day of your vacation,
find pebbles and rocks amongst
stones; tell her about the brown-gold
glint of cobblestone roads, how
both eyes focused forward cannot
see it until one eye whispers beauty.