My One Poem by Stan Petrovich

It is a savior's nightingale
bemoaning the tides;
she & I wallowed on the beach
neverminding the sand flies,
although they came and went.
We were there for ourselves alone;
the beating drum of the tide tuning our hearts
like so many before.
I got to thinking,
- -who else has been here and in love here- -
when a flurry of wind whipped up foam over us
a constant reminder that we came originally from
that sea.