No Undying Day

near crying,
the sound of sea waves
dashing in misery
sought our company;
yet we had gigglingly kissed
and taken to the sandy bed -

sleeping together like
the sand and seabed,
tentative minds locked in
magical play
between thinking

of the rushing
dark that rumbled
towards us
across the quay,
and the hope in this loving
bringing an undying day,

reason woke up once or twice,
locked in the safe habour
of your neck and listening
to the wind walk and talk
through the sea's wail,

while lost in the warmth
of your private bed,
the feel of your head
on my limited heart
carried a peaceful heat
under a quilt of skin,

fast asleep, cold logic
can be a charming thing,
and I remember wishing
it could be
like this forever,
pushing back the night

to glow golden
on the tip of hopeful
horizons that made
men and women smart
enough to touchdown
on a far away moon,

and yet stupid enough
never to learn
that there is
no such thing -
in this loving thing -
as forever.

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