Back Of Our Hands
Killing time. LA11 7HN.
Time on its side, feeling like 7:00, but really gone 10:00.
Beneath a Dali sky, stealing the view and sucking it in.
Swirling in our minds, like a king tide coming, imploding within.
Through the ford we laugh and ride,
Dogs in the sun and feeling right,
Spilling drinks, well that’s ok,
Slide down the rocks and into the bay.
Let the bouncing rain come down.
Count each drop, we know we’ve found,
That rowing boat to shelter in,
To hide us in,
To find us in.
Down to the beach by the rope swing we go,
Where we touch and where we know each other,
…Like the back of our hands.
(Images: google images)