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I left her on the beach that day,
the honeyed-browning shell of love,
her lips were swollen full of tidal red,
their ebb and flowing tease the pearl-white bed,
the waters’ swirling animations bring
stop-action frames of ebon hair in curl,
the living coils, the Gorgon splendor furled.
Each crashing wave awashed on bosom’s heave
new constellations glazed by grains of sand
that glitter fast by ray of tropic sun.

Such beauty jewels up the shore, ’tis true,
and lying there inspires the passioned hearts.
But what’s the use of glorified display
when shallowness an ugliness imparts?