Sand
By craig2
She was frivolous, thin and tan. I was forty and sick of my job. She was talkative, naked except for my shirt. She told me she was chilled, I covered her, caressed her thigh. She said she was bored, I read her poems about us written long ago. When she wondered at my method, I realized the cold, stared at the sand rushing back to the undertow. Written December 16th, 2001 © on Feb 14 2002 06:31 AM PST 0 • 8
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"She was frivolous,..."