Poetry

When the sun died over the open blue sea
soft and intimate my hand was in yours,
while you pressed it,
while the water rushed out on the beach
and you are like lovely Eve from long ago,
while it feels as if we only exist for moments,
while there is sunlight, something bright in your eyes,
when time lingers, when we stand in each other’s arms
and a seagull calls screeching much further on.