i point, see that yonder star,
pink and soft against the heavens
where waves meet the sky,
infinitely stretching out like arms,
waiting to run its fingers through my hair
the way a mother would,
like silk.

pink and soft,
i stagger towards,
tired, ma, i'm tired
water to my ankles, knees, thighs
wading through a rising tide,
eyes fixed on that tiny speck
that seemed so big and bright
in the pale sky

until a wave sweeps the hem of my dress
fizzing softly, cooing me home
like warm arms and soft sand,
pulling me back to shore,
eyes torn from that fixed point,
collapsed from tired joints

it is a soft and pink evening tonight,
i remark, staring up from the sand.
the moon is a pale sliver,
barely any left,
i drink up what i can,
of that divine wind,
i have never been so clean,
so full,
so shiny,
so new,
so absolutely smooth,
free of sins,
for new ones to begin.