In a box of sand
You and I
Run along glass walls
leaving behind only footprints
Centuries later
there only remains
in the chaos of the universe
a faint impression
of the disorder which our feet
brought upon the sand, together.
which your breath against mine
wrought upon the air.

Here my fingers traced the texture of yours
and your lips found mine.
Somewhere in the vacuum there still are a few atoms
which carry the lingering echo of your voice
as you told me you loved me.
One of them, out of sheer coincidence
collides with another aimless atom
which somehow bears a resemblance of your name
in my voice.
After all these years.
Billions of them.
We meet again.


One thought on “Sandbox.

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