The Secret

The Secret

There’s a tree overlooking a cliff
That leads down to the sand and the sea,
And it keeps to itself the sad story
Of the sand, the surf, and me.

Guilty waves spit foam from cool waters
That gurgle in pools on the land.
And the foam mocks the footprints of lovers
Once denting the crust of the sand.

Silhouettes take flight in the distance,
And ride the sad memory
Floating out of the dark of the shadows
Going down to the waves of the sea.

Soft moonlight ripples on the water
Caressing the curves of the land,
Where fingers bleed tears in the darkness,
Cold and wet at the edge of the sand.

And all that remains of our secret
Is kept by the aging tree,
Who witnessed the end in the joining
Of the sand, the surf, and me.


JMariah