One day.

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