On that beach, you know,
running and jumping around
under rainbows
with rain and the Sun in their
finest piece of controversy,
on the first of September,
when the days are long and the Sun
still stays until late
here in the summer, washing
all the colour from irises
into great fields and skies and a distance
of hopeless ideas,
my sand and my stones,
irreversibly equal
it is only a matter of time
time matched with environmental
conditions for a tiny drop of perfection
for any of us to stand still