Riptide

The sound of sand is a whisper when moved by the foamy brine
Silica and salt, how they miss one another.

So they must whisper their love is soft tracings,
lest Neptune hears, wreaking havoc.

Quietly she rolls onto him, into him, through him.
Meshing in the starlight of the night;

the silent sound of their happiness softly
tickling the ears of those sleeping.

The delicate, and reticent  mix in
the undertow of passion, now deferred.

The wave rolls back into the sea;
she reaches for the shore once more

The sand longs for the wave to break
on his line, stiff and strong;

Her gentle froth to wash over him,
mixing with him, leaving him unsettled,

leaving sand ripples, permeated
by her salty goodness.

the wet sand still flows and moves
pulling him into her gently in the riptides .