Pablo walked the beach.

Small waves rippled
As large words
Round his sandals.

His sonnets slipped
On the wet stones
Until the passion

Of winds and love
Of sun dried the page
Of the poet’s longing.

The beach walked Pablo.

On this island
Their mutual desire
Found a homeland.

Distant was this exile
From the first hearts
The poet touched.

But now as an alien
Calmly reaching out
To the postman

Pablo became the beach.

Became all waves, all winds,
All sonnets, all stones,
All hearts, all islands.

And the beach became
All poems, all passion,
All longing, all desire.

Together Pablo and the beach
Reached out to sun and sheets,
To poets and seas and postmen.

Together they walked homelands.