On emerald green, I stopped at the sea
And thought my way to you.
These miles of chopping blue
That marked the distance in us.
It was cold - I remember - despite the sun
My cheeks burned with the wind.
What did I think, then?
Perhaps I saw your face in all things,
Or heard in the waves your whisper,
Your voice.
Imagining the lap of the rocks
And warm earth between,
Enticing forward.
I also wondered then, if on that immigrant's
coast your thoughts sailed back to me?
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