Last Sardinian Weekend

Of course it couldn’t last,
Summers never do.

And knowing this certainty,
We left our hotel in Porto Cervo and
Made one last trek to the beach.

The rocky Sardinian coastline
Both clashed with and complemented
The azure clearness of the water.
Brutal coarseness, and beautiful coolness,
Of Costa Smeralda…
Teasing the mind and eye with the contrast.

But in that difference, tranquil
Seemingly untouched agreement of beauty.

We found a small cove, graced with an
Arc of brilliant sand, carving a perfect crescent
For the crystal waters to gently caress.

You needed neither encouragement nor direction.

Reed mat, oil, bikini bottom…
And the Mediterranean sun.

As you lay there, both resting,
And captivating me,
You defined a portrait of casual chic
And sensuality.

Bronze, smooth, glistening skin,
Legs, chest…open and receptive,
You challenged both the sun
And all the surrounding natural beauty
For my attention…

And unquestionably,
You were successful.

For the next few hours of waning summer,
You worshiped the sun…

While the sun and I,
Worshiped you.

All, wanting desperately,
For summer to stay.

 

© 2017 W. C. Stacia, Jr.

 

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