I Would Have Liked to Show You

I would have liked to show you
the things that I love
and cherish—
things that warm my
indifferent exterior.

Right now my eyes gloss
looking at the pale blue
sunset fading
to a persimmon orange.
Oh how exquisite the water

is rippling against the otherwise
still ocean.
If you were still here, I’m sure
I would have shared
my favorite spot with you.

And we would sit side by side—
you drinking chai, me peppermint.
And we would be content
in the silence,
because the comfort we mutually

felt when together
allowed for no words
to be spoken.
And after our tea, I would
have taken you—

to the grainy damp sand and
insisted stubbornly
for you to take your shoes off.
One must always feel the luminous earth
between one’s toes at the beach.

Each grain a sparkling gift
from the gods of the sea--
and if lucky, we would find the
quintessential shell.
A shell so white,

it resembled virgin snow.
Shell hunting is quite possibly
my most prized pastime.
I had forgotten it lately,
And had hence forgotten—

to mention it to you.
You see, the ocean is where
my happiness lies,
where my stress-ridden shoulders
can slump in relaxation.

I can feel calm near the water,
listening to it lapping in the distance
playing a never-ending game of tag
with toddlers and golden retrievers.
But I forgot to tell you all of this.

I didn’t allow for you
to see the bits of me that come
together to create this quirky puzzle
that at times, I cannot even
find the pieces to.

I’m sorry.
Oh, now it is dusk.
The forthcoming night is aglow
with barely visible, crisp white
boats, in the distance gently

rocking back and forth to the rhythm
of the earth.
A fading sight
which can easily be appreciated
or unfortunately ignored.

I will take a picture for you
so you can pretend you were
here— sitting beside me,
drinking tea,
and watching the world fall to sleep.