Beached

by Ellis

Trickling tropical crystal pool,
fallen palm leaves play lilypads
one sand dune
from her laughing, arms and
legs practicing a spindle ballet at
the feet
of green tides and she reaches
to rub the sun, her
fingers sideways and a turned-in thumb
Omega light waves quiver and
wiggle on her cheeks
as she
slides her lips aside for
pearl-white teeth:
"Come on love", she is saying,
"our very own beach"