The memory photo enchants
like the setting suns rays
on the waves
as they, lapping, dance.

And I sigh,
and smile, and watch,
enthralled, mezzmerized,
wanting to touch,

Yet, recognizing that out-reaching,
can often break the trance
of the waves lapping, crashing, beaching,
I quietly watch them dance,

until, at last, reach out to you I must,
and hope your response is kind, gentle, and just.