We’d meet on the beach, on a lazy Sunday morning
The wind would be blowing, and the waves, crashing
You’d be the boy building sand castles, and
I’d be the girl writing poems in the sand.
One glance, a shy smile
The sand castle, forgotten
My poem, unfinished
We’d sit there and gaze at the little kids running
And talk about how beautiful and vast the ocean is
We’d sit there till the waves crash over the sandcastle
And wash away my poem
We’d look at each other, and laugh.
It’d start raining, and we’d run
For cover, hand in hand
I’d take you to the library, where
We would talk in hushed whispers and giggles
Ignoring the librarian’s looks
I’d read to you my favourite passages out loud
And you would enact them, to my delightful applause.
We’d go out and get some food at some local diner
Occupying the booth for hours till they shoo us out
Then we’d head to the beach again, and spread a blanket on the sand
Lie down side by side, and look at the stars
With soft music playing in the background.
Maybe, just maybe, the Universe
Would finish the poem I started, after all.
-The Girl Lost In The Bookstore