Welcomed by the roaring waves and the plaintive cries of gulls, the wanderer stepped into the wet sand. Broken shells twinkled from lascivious heaps, catching his eye. Searching for the perfect one, he walked past them with a sigh.
Crabs fled into crevices as he trudged along a rocky outcrop. And there he chanced upon a conch, nestled in the shadows, like a virgin in slumber. He held it close to his chest and thanked the ocean.
On his way back he saw a silhouette against the drowning sun, headed for him. It was the maiden he had imagined in his lonesome moments. He offered her the conch and she smiled.They held hands and danced under the rising moon on the sand, their feet drawing lines, and writing out the way they felt for each other. They walked into the water. The tide rose fast, and so did the amorous tempest within them, with every returning wave. And the night made way for another day.
The eyes of a crab glint in the first rays of the sun. The signs in the sand have been filled up. The wanderer has moved on.
No comments:
Post a Comment