The Night-time Mutter

Blind feet
pace the steps towards
silver hourglass sands, and
lungs take in a monochrome of
darkness and starlight.
We dance on the beach.
Shells crunch beneath our feet, and
the sand-stifled beat joins the night-time mutter
of hissing waves.
The rhythm dies away as we
lie back and stare
at shivering stars,
silhouetted against a dark curtain.
They are messengers of the night,
sent to listen to our rambling tales.
On the beach
our thoughts skim across
the canvas of midnight,
sketching fantastic patterns and
starlit words.

When the night fades into morning
we drift away,
leaving behind
meandering linesdaubed on the beach.