Frivolous

The end of my days will be lived out on a beach. Laying in the surf beneath the immaculate blanket of flickering fireflies. Wrapped in the thick humidity of the immense heat that emanates from the ocean depths. The night being far from silent as life continues to hum and buzz in the jungle behind and splash in the water before. The ebb and sway of the tide not only exists to breach the land water border, but also to continuously sweep this old poet's soul out to sea. My toes are burried in the sand, but my head is skimming the water's surface like a skipping stone.

A thousand trails of footprints in the sands of my memory, mine, and his.
I'll remember the early days, how we made up our own mating ritual. We covered the whole island with erotic hieroglyphics, cavemen depictions of love upon every rock face within every cave. We ran with the freedom of nymphs, leaving minimalistic poetry and clues to our whereabouts scattered throughout the jungle, written with sticks and decorated with flower petals. Articles of clothing set the path to our cabana on the cliff, and with every step closer our hearts fed the flame in our hips...

A billion trails of footprints in the sands of my memory, mine, his, and a smaller set resembling our own.
I'll remember the first time we brought our darling here. The eyes that glittered as they took in the lush scenery of this secluded unkempt world, the squeal that was emitted as we stepped down onto the dock, and the laughter we shared while witnessing the innocent look of pure wonder on our infant's face, was worth more than the entire ocean, or even the sun itself. Endless seasons spent on the shore, serenely observing from abroad the natural cycle of the myriad species of both land and sea, as they grow and create and diminish. And then to watch our own baby's first steady steps, first bee sting, first love letters...

The ocean breeze playing ever so gently with my hair, and I remember you wished you could touch me as lightly as it does. The crash of the waves so soothing, lulling me into tranquil slumber, and I swear I can hear the echoes of children's laughter...

Then my last blissful breath will exhale my energy, I will dissipate and drift out beyond the horizon to leave my lifeless body upon the shore. My final gift given to mother nature, to let her decide with the tide whether to push my form further upon her beach or drag it down into her depths.

How silly I must seem,
dreaming of my future self dreaming about the past.