A poet walks across the shore,
Shoeless, reciting a song
The beach is empty, the sea
Crashing against the rocks,
Washes up a beautiful woman
She’s naked
Golden hair, white skin,
An English rose
He hair covers her soft breasts
He gives her mouth to mouth
She coughs, chokes,
Sea water leaves her lungs.
She gasps and falls into his arms.
Angel eyes look into his,
His hands run down her face.

They kiss.

For a second time.

They make love.

Finally.

The poet opens up a crumpled piece of paper,
He rests it on her breasts,
He writes her a poem,
A masterpiece,
His finest yet,
The poet has met his muse

Finally.

On the beach they live,
Time has stopped for them.
They feed on what they catch,
Their loneliness is bliss.
They are the only two people in the world.
Life loves them,
They love life.

Magnificent moon,
Secret sun,
Curious clouds,
Omnipotent oxygen,
Pure potency,
Virility her virtue.
Sex is sacred,
Another climax, he needs her neck,
It’s perfect.

Months pass,
Still she doesn’t know his name,
Neither does he,
Amnesia stole it
And his past.
His future lies in her fertile soul.
And her womb.
She bathes him in the calm sea,
Under the skies watchful eye,
He is baptised,

The Poet.

Finally.