By way of a footbridge we crossed a sea,
as a flock of butterflies would soar the sky.
A dream-memory, fulfilled in astounding words,
like a pale flower crumbling over
a coarse scar.
We made it through the water's edge,
at the end of things, more dense,
more intrusive than vulnerability.
And waved our flags to the seasons,
only to be lured by a beguiling seashore,
of love's barbed wires wrapped in,
silver tarnish and glows into a lump
of dreams compressed into morn.
In between waters, sea bed and horizon,
our steps turned to footprints and the page