Missing You

Walking down to water's edge
on weathered, planked paths
whose repairs have
long been forgotten
by what coastal caretaker;
passing by bleached clams
and memories of crabs
devastated by greedy gulls;
I gaze across the sea,
missing you, at sunrise.

There is no end,
and where does it begin?
Where are the fountains
that forever feed it?
How is it that it finds its limits,
dissipating its force at my feet?
We stand at each other's boundaries
and rage against one another,
maddened by what unseen conflict
deep within ourselves.
All are stayed and driven to hide.
I alone stand in its fury,
missing you.

And then while I slept,
there at the edge
of your intended caress,
for what may have been one hour,
or one week, or one lifetime,
the sea calmed itself
with the envy of my peace,
only when I sleep;
as an unsung lullaby
which only it can hear.
And we slept together
in our deferred dreams,
missing you, at sunset.
.
.