The sand on the beach
where we went each summer shone
like tears although
it was dry and hot. At night,
an orange moon,
the sky's mouth, yawned at us,
and the stars spoke to us
in their own language.
Their tongue is dead now-
I cannot feel you with me anymore.
We did not separate
or drift apart
One day you simply disappeared
I called out to you,
wanting to revive our friendship
but it was like giving water to a sick person,
who had no thirst.