I tilt the base back and forth
Watching the same grains of sand
become suspended in time

Your open arms were my harbor to my shipwrecked dreams

Your beach my bed where I lay my head

My nights were the stars in your eyes

Your kisses the comets I craved

The tides of change , tropical depression and hurricanes . . . as I curl my toes in wet sand

The grains in glass I seek
to balance out the spatial

I have that space now nothing more

No , nothing more .