We walked on the pebbles,

the wind was pushing your hair on your smile,

you were pushing me toward that shed,

your hands holding my shoulders against the rough wood,

and I was not resisting.

Only it would be soon time

for me

to go back

to another shore

to the sand

to the killing fields.

We kissed

I said:

You know I may not come back

as I am

although

as a ghost

I sure will,

and you said:

I will love you

forever

as you are

or as you may become.

Photo ©2012 Honoré Dupuis