And there I took my not yet bride...to view the jewelry of God...to wash her hands...in sacred sills, above the deep of salted silts...Poseidon stirred...the glitters of le mare...the ocean god's own goddess there...all amniotic life within her...
Across the sands...we made our way, when tide declined toward middle day...around eroded driftwood lay...and flotsam from around the worlds...storm tossed homes...these sands, with little eddy's played...with little shells of hermit crab...
Creeping up the beaches slight incline...round tough and blighted grasses, made their way...as tiny beggars, bowing to the wind...crawled they...aboard their little caravan's of shell...upon the stone's all wet with spray...
And there did we...I holding to her hand, imprinting in the sand, our passage...took her through the caves...and there at last, the fronting sea...whose gentleness, just then...said "play with me"...as we stepped toward the foam...
Right there, before our gaze...the mother showed us many thing's...for which I love her...in her palms, did she, hold forth the bounty of all dreams...in polished stones...in smooth'd shell...forgotten glass, all softened sweet, as lips of Mother Nature...
We took little there, that day...but just a handful of her treasure...and we guarded it away...so we remember we were with her on that peaceful sea...we children of her womb...a little stone with hole...a tiny pipe of clay...Abalone shell...
Some glitter's from our play...she let us walk away...she kissed us with her salt tears...her mantle of the mist about our shoulder's as she whisper'd "Never go away...forever...just remember me and I will be with you" and still do we remember to this day...and always shall...
Written by Bruce James Clyde 2015
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