Proposal

Strolling the early evening beach barefoot
created two worlds
the other a rhythmic closeness
simulating sensuous dancers
in slow motion
as bleached feet are lapped
by cool waters
like a puppy licking a child’s face
She the quiet one
squeezing my hand
as each tiny wave slips away
in the stillness
I ache to speak
to ease a pounding chest
too long holding the secret
Instead a mysterious quietness prevails
enfolding unspoken words
about our future
compounded with each synchronous stride
as hypnotic fingers tighten around mine
A realization
she knew question and answer
giving me her hand for life
setting the heavens to singing and rejoicing
heard over pounding surf and ageless sand

© 2002 F Willilam Broome

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