This morning of times, when

I recognize I will always love

someone, it isn't a promise

or a dare or a petition, it's

almost a bored fact.

Then I realize it is not this time or Time's,

it is fluting-gears flurrying my chest,

it is sound of wave after wave

and feeling of sand in toes,

dry sand, salty crystal.

I would like to be the sand in your

toes and the salt in your eyelashes.

Because I am neither I

accept the way things stand.