Foam was rich, like froth on beer,

crash of waves on the bar.

Lights on the shore;

reflect stars in the heavens,

footsteps just a pause in the hour.

Faint scent of night blooms,

a shawl in a breeze.

Sound of strings strummed in the night.

Trill of a trumpet, the sigh of a voice,

a touch of a hand, oh so slight

 

Fear of rejection, the joy of a smile,

words that don’t say what we mean.

Clatter of heart beats, a tingling pulse,

fear it will end when we part.

Soft touch of lips on a cheek in the moonlight,

pressure of finger to palm.

Pause on the doorstep,

the death of a question,

the void of a fear in the dark.

 

 

David Garlick, Puerto Vallarta, February, 1999