By Tom McKelvey
Date: 3 February 1999

Lighthouse ?

We sat on the roof, over the porch, looking towards the sea and the dark
and turbulent sky, while the waves crashed into the shoals, the way you
crashed into me every time we touched, the rising and falling of our 
breaths like the white-capped peaks of waves, surounding the lighthouse
at the mouth of the inlet, peering into darkness and each other's eyes,
like some lost soul in a wild and screaming sea, searching for something
or someone, to cling to like driftwood. Our bodies shook with the
reverberation of thunder, as the electricity of the moment overcame us.