You held your yellow flip-flops with your tiny, ivory fingers,
and let the sand massage your feet as the waters welcomed you.
I gazed upon your fragile frame — balancing yourself
with the movement of wave and wind, of wave and wind,
of wave, of wind.
They flow with you, within you,
like how such silent hands protect
a deity, or the daughter of the sea.
Precious, I thought, but something more.
I walked towards you
with a concealed smile.
[Salvosa 2012, Second Draft]