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Sand

I wrote your name in the sand
With my fingers touching every grain
I poetically brushed every letter
And made it an art form
And as the waves came in
Quickly it erases you

But I would write
the love I have for you
Over and over again
Because that’s how much
You mean to me

I feel you in the warmth of sun
Though you may be distant
I know in my heart that
You are here in this earth
Every bit of you I miss

As I write your name
Etched in grains
Every single one of them
Recalling memories
That just makes me smile
And tear up a little

I pray for gentle waves
Not to crash but to soothe
My heart this moment
I pray for the sun to stay
To be with me
When the cold wind is wild

As I write your name again
With every single letter
I touch the grains
The way I would want
To touch your hand
And take in the sun
The way I would want
The warmth of your lips

No bitter complaints about society whatever from this grand and ideal man who really loves me moreover as if I deserve it, but I’m bursting to explain everything to him, not even Big Sur but the past several years, but there’s no chance with everybody yakking–And in fact I can see in Cody’s eyes that he can see in my own eyes the regret we both feel that recently we haven’t had chances to talk whatever, like we used to do driving across America and back in the old road days, too many people now want to talk to us and tell us their stories, we’ve been hemmed in and surrounded and outnumbered–The circle’s closed in on the old heroes of the night–
—  Jack Kerouac, Big Sur