Rosaline Honeycock

We once walked on sand, you and I. Footwear left stranded by tired, wooden gates and a pathway of unrefined asphalt. Words were a seasonal affair, ‘i’s dotted with good intent, ‘t’s crossed with an unspoken friend request. My letters went long unheard until one day you confirmed. It rained that day. Sand turned to mud, and mud to grass, and we were since walking hand in hand together as one. But then the ocean took me from your embrace. You ran to the shore and called my name. I’ve been in the shadow of your heart since, pining for the day we’d return.