From lighthouse, hovering birds and August sun
Hang the spokes of memory's web, unspun.
Gathering up the ghostly yarns,
I catch butterflies from another time.
She takes me dancing through the foam,
Past fishermen mending nets of their own.
Fleeting, keeping one step ahead
As 'round and 'round the ragged rocks I'm led.
A flashing eye and then sunrise,
On that stony bay;
Sandy hair and salty kiss,
And a love that somehow slipped away.
The squeeze of her hand tears me away
To a new love on an August day;
But the boy left for dead in that ancient place
Now pins me down and slaps my face.