Stand all alone, bare beach

Cold hands warm waves sandy feet

Bag of oysters – sharp as rocks – good to eat

but the love, of his life, out of reach

Should she ever coming back forgive the heat of the conversation when they meet last time ?

He really wasn’t sure of that and feeling quite level headed decided that actually there may never be another conversation.  He turned around and stepped southward along the shore walking along the water margin and whistled to his dog to catch up.  At least Oscar would stick with him he hoped.  The stars were coming out and he stopped and looked into the sky.  There was constancy there in the dark with the celestial sphere up there.  Gradually rotating inexorably at the same speed day in day out.

‘Oscar! – he shouted over the sound of the waves.

A bark and the dog was up to him already standing back and waiting for him to throw something.  He picked up a bit of driftwood and through it into the waves. The dog bounded in after it and after some few moments came bounding out of the water, flicking salt slake all over the place and then giving  a good shake after dropping the wet stick at his feet.

“ok you old joker — Oscar, I suppose you’ll miss her as well – eventually.  What if the whole world slowed down and the days got longer and the stars moved slower, he asked ?  Would the moon care Oscar ? Just because the days get longer, doesn’t mean the year would. Still take the same number of heatbeats….. all totally wasted no doubt.  Would she notice ?”

The dog barked – still waiting for him to pick up the stick.

He picked up the stick and started drawing in the sand.  First a heart, then some initials then – the dog sniffed and barked again.  They both sat down and got out the bag of oysters.

Shucks the oysters

wags the dog

moonlight glistens

stars are gone

warm waves sandy feet

suck the oysters – aftertaste – feel the beat

but the love, of his life, out of reach