We Stand

Grains of smooth sand
cover the gaps between our toes,
like woolen socks
on a cold night.

The sun’s rays beat me,
not with a whip,
but a feather-filled pillow,
white as the clouds above.

Waves beckon,
with the beauty of a reflection
crawling towards us.

Rushing winds
twiddle your long, free hair,
each lock moving in perfect harmony.

But the greatest sensation resides
in your warm hand,
which I hold so tightly.
Because I couldn’t care less
about the beautiful scenery,
if there was no beautiful you.

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