Sitting Alone

Sand Touches Water

She sat alone on the hill overlooking the sea.
The sea rolled in and then it rolled away.

And she watched it go.

He sat alone in a crowded room dreaming of the sea.
The crowd rolled in and then it rolled on out.

And he watched them go.

She sat on her hill overlooking the sea.
Wanting, waiting as the sea rolled away.

He sat in the room dreaming of the sea.
Wishing, longing for when he would go.

And he would go.

She looked up at the sky.

And he looked down into his tea.

She cried to the sun

And he seemed to see.

“Where is he who will sit with me?
Or must I be always alone?”

“Where is she who will be with me? I will not find her here.
Where then oh where is she?”

“Where is he?”

“Where?”

“Where?”

She stood.

And so did he.

She turned to leave.

And so did he.

She walked the long walk away from the sea.

He walked home.
But he stopped.
And he seemed to see.

He walked to the sea.

Slow steps
that became fast steps
that became a run.

She walked home.
But she stopped.
And she seemed to see.

A man running fast, running hard.
Running to the sea.

“Go!” something inside her cried. “Go back to the sea!”
And so she ran.

And her feet flew
like a song
like the wind
like hope that has no end.

She saw him there.
Sitting on her hill.

He looked back.

He saw her there
Standing on the hill.

He smiled.

And so did she.

“There is room here.” he said.
“Sit a while with me.”

Now, together they sat on the hill overlooking the sea.
The sea rolled in and then it rolled away.

And she watched it go.
And so did he.

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