Morning Sun

Thoughts gather in the surf
of your mind
And break as froth on the
coast of your lips
A tempest of words.
And I am caught
in the storm.
I am washed up on the
bronzed beach of your body.
The sun of your eyes
burns as they warm to
my naked skin.
Waves of fingers
tide marks drawn with
tongues
I am sand.
I am sand now.

Then I realise the salt
is sweat. And your
eyes are morning sun.