Poetry

The night tumbles down
when the last stars are driven off
and even the morning star flees
before the sun and the day-sky
 
and I hear you coughing next to me
while the morning breeze
it’s still somewhat cold
and the beach
 
stretches out long,
white and fresh before us
and the waves kiss your feet
as it does every morning at this place
and we are madly-happy to be together.