I trip on the rug and slip into the future.
Into water. I wave for help.
You smile and take a picture.
A wave dumps me onto a pile of
photos of you and me. Smiling. Waving.
Someday, after I replace that rug,
you and I will meet.
We will find this beach
that you’ve never seen.
A beach I will return to.
Because I love you.
And I want to find you again.
published in Write Under the Moon
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