footprints at dawn

i hasten to the seaside

search for your footprints at dawn
the sand swept even by the night wind
i rake with my bare foot to uncover

a trace of you, beloved

but none in the last
one hundred years of solitude
(as Marquez perhaps would say)

another sun sets ablaze
parts the rue sea above the clouds
i glide my palm over the satin grains

draw wings of an angel instead
to cross this nebulous
                                                                            lifespan between

which in inter-galactic terms
may very well mean "tomorrow"
i could flood in your arms (i wish)
be at your fingertips, no?

                                                                            until then: i imagine