the shining pebble of desire

At first there were polite exchanges during which  I imagine – I tell myself it must be true – you thought no more of me than I did of you.

But again and still you came, seen by all, not obvious to me.

Somewhere the tide washed up further onto the shore, overtaking my knees and making me gasp and run for higher ground

It had to do with you standing closer then usual.  Your eyes probing, penetrating.  I looked up and  bit my lip and hoped

That no one had seen.  But of course they had.  the air was thick, your proximity a landmark.  And I was caught, flipping about in the receding tide.

If breath leaves me now, or if the gracious sea wells to swallow me again it is one in the same.  Every mer-maid knows that the shining pebble of desire wears no more or less than a reflection of one’s own heart.