The Beach

I will wander down to the beach
With a pocket full of wooden matches
I will burn driftwood and two-by-fours.
I will write your name with a stick in the sand
Till the tide will wash it away again.

I sketched for you these fanciful flowers
I scratched my name on your back for hours
And watched as the red lines faded away.

And on the beach they shot homemade fireworks
Rising globes of pink and green light
Like bubbles rise in champagne.
And I will forgive myself for falling.

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