Paradise Regained

Why can’t we go to sleep until the tides
that rise around us have abated, when
the sea is once more just the smooth expanse

of perfect blue-green greys it is at best,
and down the beach beneath the far-off sky
with wisps of clouds a brown-skinned woman, poised

and barefoot in a yellow cloth walks up,
one large white flower in her hand - alone
and undisturbed - the beach an endless strip

of clear white sand, uncluttered. There shall be
not one intruder then. Not even me.