The ever-changing ellipsis
The man pulled the woman into his arms kissing her closed mouthed,
slowly, they sank to the sand.
The picture moved to the sea, waves meandered, whooshing,
the camera rose to the horizon, a fade out:
the ellipsis. The End.
The man and the woman raced across the beach, arms outstretched,
clasped each other, French kissed.
The camera pulled away, a view of the ocean,
tumultuous waves crashing on rocks,
the picture faded out:
the ellipsis. The End.
The man and the woman walked across the sand,
her head on his shoulder.
They reach a rock, spread a towel onto the sand, sit together, kissing,
his hand moved to her tits, her’s to his bum.
The camera pulled away, climbed the cliff, to birds soaring,
waves broke on the beach.
The image now dimmed, indistinct:
the ellipsis. The End.
The man and the woman walk into the sand dunes.
He kisses her, tongues fighting. His fingers fumble at her clothes,
pulling them from her body. Her fingers undo his shirt, his zip;
he shrugs his clothes off.
For a moment they stand there naked before tumbling to the ground,
kissing, their hands caress each other before he moves on top of her.
The camera pulls back behind the dune grasses;
we can see only their shadows as they make love:
the ellipsis? The End.
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