The Sound of Our Names

At midnight
under the dusting of stars
let me pad across the still warm pavement
to the sound of the waves
and renounce the world
where work and the sound  of busy days
dulls with each rise and fall of the tides
on the shore.

In the cloak
of the sky's dark laughter,
hold my hand
and tell me
a story
about the end
of the world.

Tell me about
how we leave this place
smiling and gasping
with so much love,

forgetting the words
for everything
except for the sound
of our names.