May 4, 2011, 8:23 AM

She
who floats,
drifts,
glides,
pulses with waves
on the vast sea,
struggling alone,
insists on
friendship,
yet yearns for
penetrating
gazes and
soft
caress;
for deep
knowing,
for caring
fingertips,
for warmth
of being pulled,
rescued from
eternity’s depths,
held from loneliness.

He
stands in the foam,
wades into the waves,
dives deep,
out, through the surf,
to her side.

Strong, sure
strokes,
practiced for years,
never fully used,
wishing he could
extend
in full measure,
his caress,
his feelings,
his thoughts,
his soul.

He saved
friends before,
but not like this.
Not with all
the passion,
tenderness,
poetry,
soft caress
his heart has to offer.

He doesn’t want
to just pull her to shore
and wait for
someone else
to revive her.

But if that’s all
she wants, friends …

Or maybe it’s just
semantics.
—–
Resuce Addendum (9:32 a.m.)

As they,
two,
lay on the beach
together,
entwined,
he applied
the aid learned,
the touch
and caress
she yearned
for.

Could she revive
and realize
that time
and patience
and proper
application
was all
she really wanted
or desired?

No other aid
was needed.