I stop at the end of the walk in front of the phone-camera
by the man I've known for forty seven years and one month
weeks of worries
days of planning
hours of smells
remembrances of slights
waves of grief
are exposed in each other's faces.
Sand and gravel between our toes
will be washed away with
the next wave
and the pounding sounds on the nearby rocks
will color this day with
visions of the infinite.
I mirror his smile.