Latimer Reef Lighthouse offered its
beacon of hope to any wayward boat
as a gesture to warn away.
Perhaps as an accusatory finger
to admonish the embarrassed
pleasure boater – what were you
out there doing, dinner is waiting,
Imagined you were still by my side,
remembering our warm embrace, the
smell of ocean, beach grasses, and
sand. I shifted, hoping that upon
next I turned you would be there.
The darkness was softened by the
glow of billions of stars
immeasurable, their suns and the
great expanse of galaxies linked
by what appears as powdered sugar
or cotton candy in the heavens.
Stringing the bursts of light together
creating a vast backdrop of beauty
fraught with hidden dangers. Black
sky as background, the inky
blackness of ocean serve to muster
the beauty of your face in my mind
as plain as the waves being clearly
exposed by the finger of light each
time Latimer turned to beam in my
I shift again, I remembered as I put
my face in your hair, always you
wanted excuse its fragrance as not
having been washed recently.
To me the smell is like the most
desirable fruit, the cloths hung upon
the line and then falling face first
into them, with squeals of delight
like happy children.
I saw the caps of the breaking waves
as the beacon of light turned to me
again and pointed, you you.
In my mind…
I helped you lay back upon our old
blanket, drawing close to your face
I saw the stars reflecting deeply in
your eyes. Depths I had never
imagined were projected; now held
in my arms grasp.
Latimer gave you a glimpse of my
smile, you smiled in return. We
were one during that time. I think
the waves sang and the old
lighthouse peeked from time to time
as the stars in your eyes and in the
universes above winked approval.
I wanted you in my life, your soft
passion contrasting with mine.
Your tender love enveloped and
gently overcame my desire for
fierce burning hasty passion.
You taught me patience as I
became your answer of desire
to the complex issues involving the
intricacy of romance in today’s
I felt we both were compliments to
each other as needs were exposed
and life seemed to mount as bricks
on hod that must be carried up the
ladder at a construction site. The
work is grueling, but necessary
to get the job completed.
Our love is like the scene before
the first brick is set, the bricklayer
ensures the foundation is right, uses
string line and plumb bob to obtain
a level and using mud sets it to
begin laying his first course of
Layer after layer this thing of beauty
comes, stack upon row must brick
after brick run.
Last I saw as you sat beside me
was your hair dancing to the run
of the wind as the sea was music
and old Latimer directed its
spotlight upon you as you were the
star each time it passed.