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“Look at the sunset” you told me as you traced the path of vermillion clouds.

I smiled and my hand traced the same path as yours;

                                                                                                     I followed you closely.

Seagulls under the summer sky.

The salty air clung to you hair.

But you got up and shook the sand from your feet.

You walked on and left

                                          footprints

                                                           where the waves could not wash them away.

You forgot about the sunset easily;

                                         forgot about the clouds and the seagulls.

And I was left on the beach with the consistency of quicksand,

writing a name that I

                                                          can’t forget.