I hear you singing
gently,
voice rolling across the waves and
lapping at my feet, tugging at the sand,
pulling handfuls of it back
with drifting curls of foam,
forming fingers that reach for me,
grasp hold of my feet
and pull.
I hear you singing and it sounds just like it always does
like a hundred breaths of wind caught in my hair
and they too are pulling me forward
into your waves.
I hear you singing but I never come closer
than a few steps into your reach,
not quite close enough for your fingertip to brush my wrist,
to grab hold of my hand and
pull me under.
