July

As I’m lying on the beach behind the cabins,

The place we were used to go,

I can hear far away the sound of the sea.

It's almost noon.

Digging my fingers in and out of the hot sand,

I miss the touch of your hand.

We are in July.

Is it too early?

Is it too late?

As I’m lying under the blue sky,

Drowning in an ocean of memories,

My mind goes to a time

When I was just a little boy

Playing with sand.

And you were by my side.

Paolo Driussi